


Prove Me Wrong

by syriala



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Established Derek Hale/Peter Hale, Fluff, Getting Together, Good Peter, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Supportive Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-01 10:43:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16763572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syriala/pseuds/syriala
Summary: Stiles had made his mind up about Peter and everyone knew it.Peter was a manipulative, murderous, evil bastard and Stiles would never hesitate to throw another Molotov cocktail at him if the situation required that. Stiles knew that Peter would never do anything to help them, after all.Or would he?(or five times Peter does something nice for the pack, and the one time Stiles does something nice for Peter)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have seven chapters, all written and ready to be posted, which I will do regularly. There will be no sequel after chapter 7.

Stiles had made his mind up about Peter and everyone knew it.

Peter was a manipulative, evil bastard and Stiles would never hesitate to throw another Molotov cocktail at him if the situation required that. Stiles knew that Peter would never do anything to help them and the only thing that was more than confusing to Stiles was the way Derek acted around Peter.

Stiles thought that Derek had every reason to hate Peter, for everything that he did to him and Laura, but instead of hating Peter, he was always around, smiling at Peter’s comments, leaning in close whenever Peter reached out to touch him, and Stiles hated the way Peter thrived under that attention. Peter didn’t deserve to be happy, not after everything he did to them.

With everything they already went through it wasn’t a far stretch for Stiles to believe that Peter somehow tricked Derek, maybe used some magic on him, because otherwise Stiles couldn’t see how Derek would ever be willingly around Peter.

And Peter had resurrected himself, so he clearly knew a trick or two. Influencing Derek should be easy for him.

Stiles knew he needed to do something about that, needed to get Derek out of his clutches, but it was difficult catching Derek alone with the way Peter was always lurking around. Peter had told Stiles that he had his own apartment, but since he was always around when Stiles came to see Derek, he started to believe that Peter was living in the loft as well.

So in the end, Stiles invited Derek over for dinner. And just Derek, he made sure of that.

“Why are we having Derek over again?” John asked him as Stiles prepared the salat.

“Because Peter is evil, and we need to save Derek from him,” Stiles told him, yet again, and his dad sighed.

“Does he need saving?” his dad asked him, sitting down at the table and eying the salat with obvious distaste.

“Absolutely! Peter has his claws in him, and Derek has been through enough. He doesn’t deserve this.”

“Aha,” John replied, clearly not believing Stiles at all, but Stiles couldn’t care less.

Derek needed his help and he would do everything in his power to protect him.

~*~*~

Derek seemed tense from the moment he stepped into the house. John had greeted him friendly, but Derek was obviously ready to bolt. He clearly knew this was an intervention and it only served to worry Stiles further. If Derek knew that there was something to intervene for, it really must be bad.

Stiles carried them through dinner with small talk, never really stopping, but also not touching on anything heavier than “The latest bad guy is really annoying” but Derek stayed tense. He clearly knew something else was coming.

“I’ll just—excuse myself,” John muttered, clearly uncomfortable, after they finished dinner and Derek seemed ready to beg him to stay.

“You do that, dad,” Stiles gave back, eyes fixed on Derek.

“Just—behave,” John told him with a last lingering look and then went into the living-room and switched on the TV.

“Just get it out,” Derek sighed when Stiles stared at him in silence for a long time after his dad had left the kitchen.

“Peter is a bad guy,” Stiles immediately said, not wasting another second, and Derek shook his head, like he hadn’t expected anything else.

“No, he really is not,” Derek gave back, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Dude, he was batshit crazy, tried to kill us all, and then resurrected himself, only to creep around and be generally shady.”

“Don’t call me dude,” Derek replied automatically before he shook his head. “And Peter normally isn’t like that. You met him at a bad time.”

Stiles had to snort at that.

“Really,” Derek implored. “He just reacted to losing everyone he loved. It’s not how he usually is.”

“Well, he killed your sister, so I guess he’s partly to blame that everyone he loves is dead,” Stiles muttered, but of course Derek heard him.

“Do you even know how much a scent changes over a life?” Derek asked him and when Stiles shook his head, surprised by the change of topic, he went on. “The basic notes stay the same, but everything else changes weekly, sometimes even daily. Last week you smelled like electricity and plastic, because you’ve been playing video games,” Derek explained with a nod towards the living-room. “But you didn’t have time for that this week, so that scent left you.”

Stiles was listening attentively because this was some interesting shit, even though Stiles couldn’t see how this would have to do anything with Peter.

“So when he met Laura in the woods, he didn’t recognize her scent. It had been six years, and he had forgotten what she smelled like. And he was too insane, too hurt, to stop and think.” Derek looked down at his hands. “I hate that she’s dead, that she had to die like this, but I don’t blame him, not really. We shouldn’t have left.”

Stiles could only stare at Derek, because he couldn’t understand that at all. Peter was clearly to blame, and he needed Derek to see that. Especially if Peter made him believe that them leaving was to be blamed. Derek didn’t need that on top of the guilt he already carried around.

“He’s evil,” Stiles said, and Derek looked up at him.

“He’s not,” he said. “He’s difficult and closed off, but he’s not evil. Do you really think that he would hurt or kill anyone of the pack?”

“Yes,” Stiles immediately replied and cursed himself when he saw how Derek’s face fell at that.

“He would never,” Derek forcefully said. “He would never hurt any of you.”

“Derek, he’s the creepiest, shadiest fucker I have ever met, and I do not think for a second that he wouldn’t kill Scott for the alpha power if he thought he could get away with it.”

“You clearly don’t know him at all,” Derek said. “He doesn’t want to be alpha. He’s not made to be the alpha.”

“Yeah, right, whatever,” Stiles dismissively said, and Derek looked imploringly at him.

“Stiles, he’s not the bad guy here,” Derek told him again, as if repeating it would make Stiles believe him. “Why do you even care so much all of a sudden?” Derek asked him, and Stiles looked with wide eyes at him.

“Dude, did you not notice how much time you spend with him? Of course you don’t think he’s bad anymore, he thoroughly brainwashed you!”

“Stiles, I love him,” Derek gave back, and that kinda threw Stiles for a loop, made his stomach drop out because this was so not what he had expected.

“You what?” he asked, voice thin with surprise and Derek steadily avoided eye contact. “You love him love him, as in you are together?”

“I thought this was what this evening was about,” Derek lowly admitted, and Stiles threw his hands in the air.

“He’s your uncle!” he exclaimed, and Derek shrunk right before his eyes, shoulders drawn up almost to his ears.

“I’ve always loved him,” he muttered towards the table, still avoiding Stiles.

“But he’s your uncle! And he’s evil! He tried to kill you!”

“Did he really?” Derek asked him, and Stiles was speechless for a second because so many attempted murder moments came to his mind all at once. He didn’t even know where to start.

“Yes,” he finally settled on, instead of listing every single one. “Yes, he really did. He tried to kill you and Allison and Scott and me. He’s not the good guy here.”

“But he’s also not the bad guy,” Derek reminded him, yet again, and Stiles just couldn’t with this.

“You are clearly delusional. He’s in your head!”

“You think he did something to me,” Derek stated, and it seemed like some puzzle pieces fell together for him because suddenly his face became hard. “You think he tricked me into loving him.”

“Yes!” Stiles almost cried out, because finally Derek was getting it.

“I loved him before this, you know,” Derek lowly said. “We were together long before they all died.”

This was concerning on more than one level to Stiles, because he quickly did the math in his head and no matter how he judged Derek’s age now, the outcome was always bad for Peter.

“Which only proves to me that he was evil back then too. The age difference alone is concerning.”

“It’s not really as much as you think,” Derek told him with a small smile and Stiles narrowed his eyes at him, remembering the vague way Peter had evaded Stiles’ questions about his and Derek’s age.

“He’s not good for you.”

“Because he’s my uncle or because you think he’s evil?” Derek asked him, shoulders set straight now, and he seemed ready to fight Stiles.

“Honestly, the fact that he’s evil should be more concerning to you. It is to me,” Stiles gave back, and Derek sighed.

He could overlook the fact that they were related, if he could be sure that they were in a consensual relationship, that made both of them happy. But Stiles didn’t believe that to be the case for a second.

“You just don’t know him,” Derek told him, and Stiles had to admit that that at least, was true.

He had never exchanged more than three words with Peter that weren’t directly related to Stiles accusing him of a scheming plan, or Peter giving a scathing comment on something.

“I don’t want to,” Stiles gave back, because really. He could do without getting to know lunatic murderers.

“But you will,” Derek said, and it sounded like a promise.

It made a shudder run down Stiles’ spine and he didn’t like that at all.

“Derek, just--be careful with him, please,” Stiles said, as Derek stood up, clearly ready to go, because he knew that he couldn’t convince Derek to leave Peter.

That much was clear to him now. He needed a different plan.

He needed to catch Peter in the act of doing something horrible, because otherwise he would never get Derek to believe him. He was in too deep already.

But catching Peter red-handed should be easy. He was constantly scheming after all. Stiles would just have to keep a very close eye on him.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter was not easy to keep track off. Most of the time he was with Derek, but sometimes he left, and Stiles never had any luck following him. He believed that Peter knew exactly what he was up to and was leading him around on a merry chase and it only made Stiles madder. Not to mention worry more.

No one this evil should be this clever. It was a bad combination.

In the end he started to follow Derek. Peter had talked about an apartment, and he wasn’t sleeping at Derek’s place every night, so he clearly had to go home some days. Derek had to know where the apartment was and going by the fact that he wasn’t always spending the night at his own loft either, Stiles figured that he must be with Peter then.

It should be easy to follow Derek, because he wasn’t nearly as cunning as Peter. Stiles would even go so far as to say that Derek was way too trusting. His relationship with Peter was just the worst proof of that.

So he followed Derek wherever he went, slightly despairing when Derek didn’t notice him, because wasn’t a werewolf supposed to smell him or something, but Derek gave no indication that he knew Stiles was there.

It only took three days before Derek lead him right to Peter’s doorstep. Stiles cursed himself because for all that Peter was evil and scheming, he was also clearly a creature of comfort. He lived in the most expensive apartment building in town and Stiles really should have seen that coming.

He staked the place out before he went home and hacked into the security system of the place, because of course it had security, and it was easier than it should be to find Peter’s apartment. Now he only needed to time it right.

A few days later, Stiles waited until he saw Peter drive away, before he went into the complex like he belonged there. That was the secret to a lot of things, Stiles had found. Just look confident enough that people believe you have every right to be there, and usually it went without a hitch. Just like this time.

Stiles straightforwardly made his way up to Peter’s apartment and breaking into it was actually easier than Stiles had thought. The door clicked open after no time at all.

Stiles quickly walked in, carefully closing the door behind him and then took a deep breath. He didn't know when Peter would come back, so he needed to be quick. Stiles patted the scent masking charm Deaton made for him during their last monster of the week debacle, confident that it would do its job now, too. Otherwise Peter would know he had broken into his home the second Peter stepped into his apartment.

Stiles stepped away from the door, entering the living-room, and looked around. Peter had good taste, Stiles had to give him that, but there was hardly a surface that wasn’t covered with books or tomes or sometimes even just sheets of paper.

Stiles carefully stepped closer, inspecting all the books he could see, and they were all about the supernatural. And they were all displaying information about the cyclops that was running around the preserve lately.

He couldn’t help the smile that broke out on his face, because this was everything Stiles needed. Clearly Peter was holding back information, information the pack needed desperately, and it only served to show that Peter was a cunning asshole who wasn’t really concerned with their safety and wanted all of them dead.

He got his phone out, snapping pictures of everything, so he would have proof of Peter’s treachery to show to the pack, but when Stiles turned around to leave, Peter stood in the doorway.

“Fuck,” Stiles said with feeling and Peter crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“I would have to agree,” he said, and casually flicked his claws out on one hand.

Stiles’ heart sped up, but the only thing he could think that, while his death would proof Peter’s evil ways to everyone, he never wanted to expose him at the cost of his own life.

Peter walked up to him, menacingly slow like the dramatic bastard he was, and Stiles stepped back until he hit one of the many book-covered tables.

“If you kill me everyone will know you for the evil person you are,” Stiles rushed out and Peter raised an eyebrow at him.

“Do you really think I care?” he asked him, tilting his head in question.

“Derek would!” Stiles almost yelled, desperate to stop Peter, but he refused to feel relief when Peter stopped his advance.

Stiles was still alone with Peter after all, so the worst wasn’t over yet.

“I would never really hurt you,” Peter finally said with a small frown, after studying Stiles for a few moments, and Stiles actually had to laugh out loud of that.

“Yeah, right, because you keeping this information from us is going to keep us all alive,” he said, gesturing at all the books in the room.

“I have some information I could give you to keep you all alive,” Peter sneered, and Stiles refused to cheer, because he had known that Peter had been keeping information from them.

“Then why don’t you?” Stiles asked and wished he had thought to record this conversation.

“Because Scott doesn’t want to kill the murdering cyclops,” Peter snapped back.

“As if that’s all the information you have! You lived here before, you must know more about the monsters than just that!” Stiles yelled at him.

Peter certainly always seemed confident enough to know all kinds of things, and if he kept that from the pack, then he was conspiring against them all.

“You think any of this is normal?” Peter hissed at him. “You think I have information about the cyclops or the alpha pack, or even the kanima just lying around?”

“But—” Stiles started, before Peter interrupted him.

“The kanima is a goddamn fairytale we tell our children to caution them to not bite just every desperate person they come across, if they ever gain the alpha spark. I have never even heard of a sighting of a kanima before,” Peter said and Stiles frowned at him.

“But you knew what to do. It was right there in the bestiary,” Stiles said.

“You think that shit is accurate? Did you even look at the werewolf page of the bestiary? It says we can be killed by silver. That born werewolves spend their first two years in wolf form, not distinguishable from actual wolves. Most of what’s in there is utter bullshit,” Peter said, and his voice got louder the longer he talked.

“Then how did you know it was accurate?” Stiles asked.

“I cross-referenced twelve other sources before I even showed Derek the bestiary I had,” Peter told him, and Stiles felt a little bit like he had whiplash. This was really not what he had been expecting.

“So you’re just as clueless as the rest of us,” Stiles said, a little bit baffled that Peter wasn’t the all knowledgeable person he had always thought.

“You think I just have information about ancient Egypt myths laying around? Sphinxes aren’t even supposed to be in this hemisphere of the world. Or information about the slime blob from before? You think this is just a usual week for me?”

Stiles had, in fact, thought that this was just business as usual for Peter, not that he was going to admit that now.

“Then where do you get your information?” Stiles asked, because Peter still had come through with the crucial information every single time.

It had taken him some days, which Stiles now understood, but he always had the solution for them.

“I have connections,” Peter said with a little huff. “And I pay them with the money of my dead family. You want to go tell Derek that? We can be lucky no one asked for anything besides money yet.”

“What else could they ask for?” Stiles wanted to know, more curios than he would ever admit.

“A favor for a favor,” Peter said with a shrug and then narrowed his eyes when Stiles chuckled at that.

“You’re afraid to owe someone something? Like that is so bad,” Stiles scoffed and instinctively tried to take another step back when Peter’s eyes glowed blue at that.

“They give me information I, all of you, desperately need and can ask for any favor in return. Would you do it? Would you sell me a favor for information on the monster of the week?” Peter asked. “Any favor? And you can’t back out?” Peter snapped at him and Stiles immediately shook his head.

“Never,” he said, and Peter nodded like he hadn’t expected anything else.

“The supernatural community is a selfish and cruel one. What I do is not easy.”

“So, why not just tell us, or Derek?” Stiles wanted to know, because honestly, if Peter was just as clueless as any of them, it would go a big way to make him more likeable.

Right now it always looked like he was laughing at their fumbling attempts to get rid of whatever monster they currently had, before he finally decided to come to their help.

“So you know I’m basically useless? So Derek can turn his back on me, and Scott can kick me out of the pack? I would go feral again, and you have seen what happens when I do.”

“You were very focused then,” Stiles said, because Peter clearly had acted on a plan back then.

“Because I had a goal,” Peter told him. “I had to kill Kate. How well do you think it would go if Scott kicked me out? If Derek left me? They would be my focus and Scott is the only alpha we have, and Derek is the only family I have left.”

“That’s weirdly introspective,” Stiles muttered, though he wasn’t really surprised.

“I had six years to get to know myself really well,” Peter bit out.

“But why don’t you have experience with all kinds of monsters?” Stiles wanted to know, because he figured the Hale pack must have run into problems more than once before.

“Do you even know what Peter’s position in the pack was?” Derek suddenly asked from the door and Peter startled almost as badly as Stiles did.

It was, admittedly, kind of funny to see Peter caught off guard like this for once, but Stiles pressed his lips together, to keep from smiling.

“How much did you hear?” Peter asked, voice low and gaze avoided, and Derek walked right up to him, nuzzling the side of his head and pressing a kiss to his cheek, until Peter relaxed again.

“Enough,” Derek whispered. “I would never just leave you, you have to know that. Especially not for something like this. I don’t need you to be useful to me.”

“Sure,” Peter replied, voice flippant, and even Stiles, without special senses, could hear the lie.

He frowned at Peter, just like Derek did, because he would never have pegged him for someone with insecurities.

“I love you,” Derek said, driving his point home with a kiss, before he turned back to Stiles.

“He was the left hand of the pack,” Derek said, picking up on his question earlier, but he kept close to Peter, arm slung low around his middle. “His job was to know enough about monsters to kill them, to handle them before they could become a threat to the pack. And he was good at it, too,” Derek explained, and Stiles refused to find the way Peter preened under that praise adorable.

Peter was not adorable.

“He knew just enough about them to kill them in the quickest way possible. He never learned how to peacefully relocate them, or how to figure out what they want. That was never his job and he never gained any experience with that. All his knowledge is focused on killing them, which usually, is a lot easier.”

Stiles was just a little bit distracted by the openly admiring look Peter threw at Derek but eventually the words clicked with him.

“But Scott doesn’t want them killed,” he mumbled, because he finally began to understand. “So Peter pretends to know everything, only to go home and fall into a research spiral, because he thinks he’s useless otherwise.”

Now that Stiles really thought about it, he remembered the way Peter always seemed run down and beyond tired when he finally told the pack how to deal with the monster. Stiles had never really paid attention to that, never gave it another thought, but it all fit together.

“Yes,” Derek said, and pulled Peter closer to his side. “He’s trying to help.”

“Without seeming useless to us,” Stiles muttered and groaned. “Honestly, it was easier when I thought he was getting us hurt on purpose,” Stiles complained, because Peter had been a good outlet for his anger.

Stiles saw now how misguided it had been, and he retroactively felt bad for ever cursing Peter out when it had taken him a few days to find the information they needed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Stiles honestly said, because he hadn’t understood Peter before, and Stiles lived with the firm believe that you had to apologize if you fucked up. And he had fucked up here, Stiles could see that now.

“I don’t care,” Peter snapped back, and Derek threw Peter an amused glance at that. “I don’t,” Peter reiterated, and Derek kissed his cheek again, whispering “Sure,” just loudly enough that Stiles could hear it too.

They were sickeningly cute, Stiles had to admit that.

“Sure you don’t,” Derek mumbled again, when Peter frowned at him, and then stepped away from Peter, walking towards the kitchen.

“Are you staying for dinner?” Derek asked, and Stiles vehemently shook his head.

Peter might not get them deliberately hurt by withholding information, but Stiles still didn’t trust him. This still didn’t proof that Peter wasn’t evil and out for all of their blood, and Stiles would not give him a chance to poison his food. If Peter wanted him dead, then he would have to try harder.

“Absolutely not,” Peter said as well, and stepped forward to grab Stiles’ arm, dragging him to the door. “He’s leaving, and he can be happy I’m not calling his dad.”

“Ugh,” Stiles said with feeling, because that would be the worst.

His dad might be in on the supernatural now, but he still didn’t need to know that Stiles was more than proficient at breaking into places with security.

“Don’t come by again,” Peter said just as he shoved Stiles into the hallway and closed the door in his face.

Peter totally was evil. This little revelation changed nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

John was pushing his food around on his plate and Stiles hadn’t stopped frowning at him all evening. His food wasn’t that bad, and Stiles knew it damn well. His food tasted fine. So something else had to be bothering his dad, and he better not be getting sick.

“What’s going on?” Stiles asked him eventually, pointing at him with his fork.

“Nothing is going on,” John said with a sigh and Stiles narrowed his eyes at him, because his dad usually lied better than that.

“Sure,” Stiles skeptically said, and just kept staring at his dad.

It was usually a pretty good tactic to get him to talk, and it worked this evening as well.

“It’s Mrs. Henshel,” John sighed, and Stiles put his fork down.

“Again?” he asked, and he instantly felt bad.

Mrs. Henshel had been at the station every other month for the last few years, always coming in to report her abusive husband, and always leaving without actually pushing charges. Stiles knew that his dad worried about her and the kids, but as long as she didn’t officially accuse her husband, he couldn’t do anything.

“How bad?” Stiles asked, and John shook his head, causing Stiles to nervously tap his finger on the table.

“Her husband is filing for divorce and he wants to take the kids. And he will, too,” John told him, and Stiles blanched at that.

As far as they knew Mr. Henshel hadn’t touched the kids, had only ever hit his wife, but if he was going to take the kids with him, then no one could know what he would do.

“Can’t you do anything?” Stiles imploringly asked his dad, who shook his head.

“He has a damn good lawyer, who is going to spin everything just like he needs to. Mrs. Henshel doesn’t stand a chance, not without her own lawyer. And we both know she can’t afford that.”

“Fuck,” Stiles mumbled into his food and suddenly understood why his dad wasn’t all that hungry.

He wasn’t either, all of a sudden.

~*~*~

“What are you doing?” Stiles asked when he walked into the loft and found everyone bend over the newspaper.

“Dude, did you see this?” Scott asked him, and Erica frantically pointed at an article in the paper.

“No, I didn’t,” Stiles said with a roll of his eyes, and then glared at Derek when he smirked at him.

Stiles had clearly spent too much time with Derek if he picked up the eye-rolling already, but someone needed to make sure Peter wasn’t filling Derek’s head with any more evil thoughts than he had no doubt already planted there.

“Come here, it’s Peter,” Erica excitedly hissed at him and Stiles rushed to her side, because now he just had to know.

Maybe this was finally the last thing he needed to proof that Peter was evil.

“What is it?” Stiles asked, as he leaned over Scott’s shoulder, scanning the article.

“He’s a lawyer,” Isaac whispered, and Stiles absolutely did not like the awe in his voice.

This was not good.

“Apparently an evil lawyer, going by the scum he defended,” Stiles muttered, reading the article much more carefully now.

Peter seemed to be well known, if all the talk about him finally being back was anything to go by, and the article praised him and his ‘cunning wit and ruthless arguing’. It was kind of sickening how highly this article talked about Peter.

“So he made a rich asshole even richer, getting a salary that was probably stolen from the employees rightfully suing him,” Stiles said with distaste, but honestly, he wasn’t even surprised.

Stiles had never thought about what job Peter had before the fire, but lawyer seemed like the obvious choice for him. It was the perfect place for Peter to regularly use his cunning, ruthless mind to hurt innocent people without being prosecuted for it himself.

“How can you just accept this?” Stiles asked Derek as he turned around, pointing at the article, and the decidedly disgusting picture of a smug Peter.

“It’s really not what you think,” Derek mumbled, and Stiles scoffed, so totally fed up with Derek’s constant defense of Peter.

“Sure because this article just made Peter’s awful victory in court up,” Stiles snapped, and Derek only sighed at him.

“You wouldn’t believe me anyway,” Derek told him, before turning around and leaving the pack to talk over the article.

Stiles turned back towards the paper, reading the article yet again, and feeling a little bit sicker every time he read the glowing review Peter got here. What Peter was doing was wrong. If he was this good a lawyer, he should use his skill for good and not help CEO’s of companies that already treated their employees like shit.

“I kinda have to admit, the suit is a hot look on him,” Erica dreamily said, and Stiles yelped in outrage.

“Erica!” Stiles yelled, but his complain was lost under her gleeful cackles.

“Come on, Stiles. You do have to admit that he looks good,” Erica said, and slung her arm around Stiles’ neck, pulling him down and shoving his face at Peter’s picture in the paper.

The thing that was most outrageous about this was that Peter did look good, as much as Stiles hated to admit it. He was handsome in his normal clothes but seeing him in a suit like that really just accentuated just how good-looking Peter really was and Stiles felt the urge to shower, just thinking that.

“That’s disgusting,” Stiles muttered, and Erica snorted.

“You’re too uptight,” she scolded him. “Admitting a guy is hot doesn’t make you gay,” she said, and Stiles had to laugh out loud at that, thoughts about Peter forgotten for now.

“No, being bi is what makes me gay sometimes,” Stiles told her with a wink and Erica stared at him in wonder before she laughed again.

“Awesome!” she declared. “Finally someone I can gush with over hot boys.”

Stiles had a split second to regret his every decision, before Erica was pulling him over to the couch and getting out her phone. This would be a long day, and Stiles could just hope that at least she had good taste.

~*~*~

A few days later, his dad seemed much more chipper during dinner.

“You’re happy today,” Stiles remarked. “What happened?”

“Mrs. Henshel is taken care of,” John immediately said, like he had just waited to spill the good news.

“Her husband backed down?” Stiles asked, because he couldn’t see any other way this would play out well for her.

“No,” his dad said while shaking his head. “We found her a really good lawyer.”

He said it while avoiding Stiles’ eyes, and it immediately made Stiles suspicious. Not that he wouldn’t have thought this was strange anyway.

“Good lawyers are expensive,” Stiles slowly said. “How does she afford it?”

“He’s working pro bono on this case,” John said with a shrug and Stiles glared at him.

“Does this mysterious, helpful lawyer have a name?” he asked, and John almost squirmed on his seat.

“He just might,” John said, and Stiles threw his hands in the air.

“Just tell me already, or I’ll end up thinking it’s Peter!”

John pressed his lips together as his eyes stayed glued to his plate and Stiles almost dropped his fork.

“No!” Stiles whispered horrified. “You did not put poor Mrs. Henshel’s fate into Peter fucking Hale’s hands! I thought you liked her!”

“Peter was offering his services for free,” John defended him and Stiles’ outrage just grew.

“Because he’s going to eat that poor woman’s soul as payment,” he exclaimed and was affronted when John couldn’t help his amused smile.

“You’re just as dramatic as he is,” John said, and Stiles gaped at him.

“I am appalled,” he eventually brought out and John shrugged.

“Stiles, I know you don’t like him, but he is a good lawyer, and he will help her.”

“No, he won’t,” Stiles muttered. “He really won’t. Did you not see the article about him? He’s one of the worst lawyers,” Stiles tried but his dad didn’t seem convinced.

“His first talk with her was pretty good,” John said. “He’s convinced he can win for her.”

“He’s _lying_ ,” Stiles imploringly said but John shook his head at him.

“If he manages to help Mrs. Henshel keep her kids and get away from that monster that is her husband, I don’t care much what he is,” his dad said before he got up and put his plate in the sink.

“She’s exchanging one monster for another,” Stiles muttered but his dad was already walking out on him.

Stiles stared after him, appalled just how his dad could ever trust someone like Peter. But Stiles would prove it to his dad soon enough that no one could ever trust him.

~*~*~

The articles Stiles found were more than confusing.

Peter was in the news a lot, always sharp looking in his no doubt expensive designer suits, but not for the things Stiles had thought. The articles were mostly dragging him through the mud, since Peter lost more cases than he won.

He had a positive outcome every now and then, but they were far and in between. Mostly he experienced crushing defeats, losing his clients millions and millions of dollars and Stiles started to really worry about Mrs. Henshel.

Peter did not have a good track record with people who could actually pay him, and Stiles didn’t even want to think about how little effort Peter would put into Mrs. Henshel’s case, who couldn’t even give him a fraction of the money Peter no doubt usually charged.

Stiles could not accept that. Mrs. Henshel and her kids deserved better than this.

He stormed into the loft, hoping to find Peter there, but only Derek was lounging on the couch. Stiles had a quick second to be angry that for once Peter wasn’t where he always was, before Stiles saw his chance.

Maybe he could convince Derek now that Peter was a bad guy.

“Your uncle is an asshole, and a bad lawyer to boot,” Stiles said, and Derek glanced up at him.

“He is an asshole, yes, but he is the best damn lawyer I know,” Derek immediately replied, and Stiles could feel himself despair at Derek’s unwavering belief in Peter.

“Did you not see the news coverage on him?” Stiles asked, and Derek stood up.

“Did you?” Derek gave back and had the audacity to smirk when Stiles stared in outrage at him. “Come on,” Derek said, grabbing his jacket and shrugging it on.

Stiles was distracted by that motion for a second, his tight shirt moving with the motion, but it was long enough for Derek to raise a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Where are we going?” he asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest and not moving an inch before he got an answer to that.

“Peter’s office,” Derek said, and Stiles narrowed his eyes at him.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you’re not going to believe a word of what I’m going to say,” Derek said and walked out of the loft, clearly expecting Stiles to follow him since he didn’t look back at him at all.

“Ugh,” Stiles said with feeling and he could hear Derek laugh from the stairs.

Stiles followed after him, getting into the camaro but he wasn’t talking. He glared at Derek for the whole ride to a fancy office building and when he had to crane his head to look up at the top he sighed.

“Figures he works here,” Stiles muttered, but got out of the car when Derek walked up to the entrance.

He nodded at the security guard at the front desk, who greeted him with a smile. Derek clearly was a regular here, which didn’t really surprise Stiles if Peter was working at this place.

“Whatever you are planning won’t convince me,” Stiles told Derek in the elevator and Derek smirked at him.

“Sure,” Derek gave back, clearly not believing a word Stiles said and confident in the knowledge that he was right.

When the elevator door opened, they almost walked right into Mrs. Henshel, who was crying her eyes out. Her oldest daughter was trying to comfort her, but Mrs. Henshel seemed inconsolable and Stiles felt so angry all of a sudden that it felt like he would vibrate out of his skin.

“Where is his office?” Stiles pressed out through clenched teeth and Derek pointed to the door to their left.

“I’m going to kill him,” Stiles muttered as he walked off, slamming the door open and cherishing Peter’s surprised face for a second, before he pointed his finger at him.

“What the hell did you do to poor Mrs. Henshel?” he asked, voice hard but Peter wasn’t even looking at him.

His eyes were fixed on Derek, who had walked in behind Stiles and closed the door.

“Derek,” Peter mumbled, walking around his desk to pull Derek into a hug, dragging his cheek over Derek’s neck and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips and completely ignoring Stiles.

“What are you doing here?” Peter mumbled against his skin and Stiles felt very much like an intruder in that moment.

“Stiles has some questions,” Derek gave back, nosing at Peter’s temple before he took a step back. “And I think you should answer them honestly, for once.”

“But what about my dramatic flair?” Peter asked with a sigh, but he was smiling at Derek. “You’re ruining my image.”

Stiles wanted to hate Peter for being with Derek, but it was hard to do when he saw just how this relationship impacted him too, and not just Derek. Peter seemed more relaxed around him, more open, as well, and Stiles hated it. Peter didn’t deserve to be relaxed. Not if he kept ruining other people’s lives.

“What the fuck is there to ruin anyway?” Stiles wanted to know. “You lose most of your cases, after all.”

“Do I?” Peter asked him and pointed at the wall behind Stiles. “Maybe take a closer look at that.”

Stiles glared at Peter, unwilling to do what Peter wanted from him, but in the end his curiosity won out. Stiles turned around, skin crawling when he put his back to Peter, but he reassured himself that Derek would not allow Peter to kill him.

Stiles concentrated on the wall, and it only took him a moment to notice that it was almost completely plastered with small articles. Almost none of them were accompanied by pictures, most of them just a few sentences long and Stiles stepped closer to read the closest one.

It very roughly described a heartbreaking case where Peter won a case for a woman who nearly died in the hospital because of negligence. The next one was about a case where Peter represented a bunch of tenants, winning them a case where the landlord had knowingly ignored the mold in all of the apartments.

And it went on and on like that. All the articles told about Peter’s victories and after Stiles read almost half of the wall he turned around to Derek and Peter, who were patiently looking at him.

“I don’t understand,” Stiles admitted, and Derek sighed.

“That’s because Peter doesn’t like it when someone knows he has a soft heart,” he said, with a soft look on his face, and Stiles did a double take when he saw Peter blushing slightly.

“You won all these cases,” Stiles said and pointed at the wall.

“Yes, I did,” Peter agreed.

“But—where is that article from last week? The one about the CEO?” Stiles wanted to know, because he hadn’t seen that one on the wall.

“I’m not proud of that case, so I didn’t hang it up,” Peter easily replied and at Stiles confused gaze he deflated.

“I have to keep up a reputation,” Peter explained. “I need to win just enough big cases to justify all the pro bono cases I take. And I take more pro bono cases than other ones.”

“But where do you get all your money?” Stiles asked, because clearly Peter was more than wealthy.

“I have a very sneaky contract,” Peter admitted with a shrug. “Usually a lawyer who loses the case only gets paid half the salary he would get if he wins. My contract demands that I am being paid in full, no matter the outcome.”

“Why don’t more people know about this? I mean, you have a reputation, clearly. Shouldn’t word around your contract have gotten out?”

“You really think anyone will admit to being fooled by me when I just lost them an almost certain case?

“That’s brilliant,” Stiles whispered, because if what Peter said was true, he was losing high-staked cases on purpose, helping the opposing side, while still stripping his clients of all their money.

“Thank you,” Peter said, and Stiles realized he had just paid Peter a compliment.

It made him feel dirty.

“But wait,” Stiles exclaimed suddenly. “What about Mrs. Henshel? She was crying when she left here.”

“Those were tears of joy,” Peter reassured him. “I won her case. It’s Miss Henshel now, since she and her horrible ex are not officially divorced. The kids will stay with her. He has to leave the state, since he was clearly abusive, and the kid’s schools are here. Plus he has to pay her for the rest of his life. Believe me, she was more than happy.”

“Wow,” Stiles breathed out and had to admit that maybe he had been wrong about Peter. “I’m sorry,” Stiles said honestly because he could admit when he had made a mistake.

“Careful, Stiles, this is already the second time you were wrong about me,” Peter breezily said, but he still seemed tense. “Two is a coincident, isn’t it? Soon enough it will be a pattern.”

Derek was smiling at Stiles, clearly pleased that he had been proven wrong, and that Peter wasn’t the monster Stiles had thought he was, and Stiles had to admit that maybe Derek’s trust wasn’t as misplaced as he had first believed.

“Maybe a pattern wouldn’t be so bad,” Stiles muttered, and he absolutely did not enjoy the way Peter’s face light up at that.

“Is that so?” he purred, and Derek immediately groaned.

“Way to ruin the progress, idiot,” Derek said, and Peter laughed at that, loud and happy.

Stiles couldn’t remember if he had ever heard Peter laugh before, but he decided that he liked it. Which was totally unacceptable, because even though Peter might not be completely evil, he surely still wasn’t one of the good guys.

“Yeah, pulling out the creeper vibes is really not helping you at all,” Stiles breezily said and then turned around to walk back out of the office.

He needed some time to let all his new knowledge sink in.


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles was on the way to the loft, because he felt the need to talk to Derek. Peter might not be the openly villainous person Stiles thought he was, but he sure as hell wasn’t a good person, and Derek definitely deserved better, no matter what Stiles had learned about Peter in the last few weeks.

When Stiles stopped the jeep in front of the loft, he saw Peter’s car parked there as well and dropped his head on the steering wheel with a groan. He really didn’t want to go up there if Peter was here, Stiles came for Derek after all, but they had probably heard him already and it would look strange if he left again now.

And Stiles wasn’t about to be teased by Peter, no way in hell was that happening, so he got out of the jeep and walked up the stairs.

He could hear some yelling after half the way, and when he still kept going the voices grew louder and louder. It was clear that Peter and Derek where having some kind of fight, and Stiles stopped dead in his tracks.

He really did not want to walk into a fight between these two, but on the other hand he really wanted to know. If this was Peter’s fault, Stiles could maybe use that to finally make Derek see just how bad Peter was for him.

“Peter,” Derek yelled and Stiles carefully crept closer to the loft door, praying that they were too caught up in their fight to hear him.

“No, Derek,” Peter yelled right back. “Yes, fine, it’s your fault. It’s your fault Kate burned our family down, are you happy now?”

Stiles sucked in a horrified breath, because how the hell could Peter say that to Derek? Derek was still clearly blaming himself for what happened with Kate and he really didn’t need Peter to accuse him of this as well.

There was a suspicious silence from the loft, before the door was suddenly thrown open and Peter stormed out. He looked like shit, pale and unhappy, and he faltered in his steps when he saw Stiles, but then he simply pushed on and shouldered Stiles out of the way.

“Hey!” Stiles yelled after him, holding his shoulder, because Peter had not remembered that he was just human, but Peter didn’t even slow down.

“Fuck you,” Peter yelled back, at Stiles or Derek, Stiles wasn’t sure, not looking back and leaving the building without another word.

Stiles stared after him, angrier than he could say, before he remembered Derek. He was probably not feeling so well, not with how this fight ended, so Stiles quickly turned around and walked into the loft.

“Derek?” he carefully called out, but he got no response.

Stiles wasn’t deterred though, so he just kept walking further into the loft, until he finally saw Derek standing at his window, probably staring after Peter as he drove off.

His shoulders were pushed back, and he stood very straight, letting Stiles know just how tense he was.

“Derek,” Stiles said again, and walked up to him, putting his hand on Derek’s shoulder.

Derek took one deep breath, before he practically crumbled under Stiles’ hand. His breath kept hitching, and Stiles stepped closer, pressing into Derek’s side and just keeping him company for now.

“You wanna sit?” Stiles eventually asked, and Derek nodded, though he didn’t say anything.

Stiles gently led Derek to the couch, immediately sitting beside him when Derek ungracefully fell down. Stiles had never seen Derek this uncoordinated and he wanted to tear Peter apart for doing this to Derek.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked carefully, though he could tell that Derek obviously wasn’t.

“He’s so ruthless, sometimes,” Derek whispered and dropped his head in his hands. “He just knows where to hit so that it will hurt the worst.”

Stiles had so many things to say to that, but he swallowed them all down when he saw just how crestfallen Derek looked. Derek clearly needed someone who would be sympathetic right now, not attacking him for being with Peter, and Stiles could do that. He could do anything for Derek.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said instead of immediately agreeing with Derek.

“I hate that he’s usually right,” Derek mumbled, and Stiles had a hard time to suppress his reaction.

This sounded suspiciously like victim-blaming and Stiles wanted to punch Peter’s head in for making Derek believe that. It was bad enough that Derek already blamed himself, he didn’t need Peter to strengthen that misplaced guilt and make it worse instead of better, like he should.

“I’m sorry you two had a fight,” Stiles said, feeling absolutely helpless and Derek snorted.

“You don’t even like him. Or that we’re together.”

“I still hate that he hurt you, because I like you,” Stiles gave back, and Derek scooted away from him.

“If you’re here to tell me just how bad he is for me, you can leave right now,” Derek snapped out and Stiles raised his hands in defense.

It might have been his original plan, but Stiles wasn’t about to drag Peter when they were already fighting. Derek was feeling bad enough, Stiles didn’t want to make it worse.

“I’m not here to fight, Derek,” he lowly said. “I’m here to be your friend.”

“Sure,” Derek mumbled.

“Hey,” Stiles protested and bumped their shoulders together. “I am your friend, you know that, right?”

“Then maybe you would just believe me when I say that Peter is a good guy,” Derek said, and Stiles sighed.

“I can admit that he doesn’t seem totally evil,” Stiles confessed and enjoyed the surprised look on Derek’s face. “But I still don’t think he’s good for you,” Stiles went on and Derek’s face immediately fell with just those few words.

So Stiles wasn’t even going to mention that Peter still seemed cruel and more bad than good, because Derek didn’t need to hear that right now.

Derek tried to scoot even further away from him, but Stiles reached out to grab his wrist.

“I’m sorry you two are fighting,” Stiles said, and Derek stared intently at his chest as he said it, clearly listening for his heartbeat to give away a lie.

But Stiles knew that wouldn’t happen, because he was sorry they were fighting, even if just for Derek. He never wanted to see Derek that hurt.

“Do you think you two will make up?” Stiles asked, moving closer to Derek again and leaning against him, resting his head on his shoulder, because he thought physical contact couldn’t hurt right now.

“I don’t know,” Derek said with a shuddering breath and Stiles pulled him into a hug.

Derek clung to him, hiding his face in Stiles’ neck and they stayed like that for a very long time. Stiles lazily carded his fingers through Derek’s hair, not talking since Derek didn’t seem in the mood to hold a conversation and so they just sat in silence.

It took Derek at least forty minutes to get himself back together again and when he pulled away from Stiles, his eyes were suspiciously red-rimmed.

Stiles wanted to kill Peter for making Derek cry like this.

“Thank you,” Derek said, with a small, sad smile, and Stiles darted forward to drag his nose over Derek’s cheek. Not that he needed the scent-marking because he was probably reeking of Stiles, but it was a gesture that clearly calmed Derek down.

“No problem,” Stiles gave back. “I would say always, but I actually don’t want you to feel like this again,” he said with a shrug and Derek threw him an amused look.

“What did you originally want?” Derek asked, clearly trying to steer the conversation into a different direction and Stiles easily went with it.

“I found some stuff,” he said, and Derek groaned.

It might not have been his original reason to come to Derek, but Stiles always had something supernatural related to ask, and so he got several sheets out of his bag.

“Where do you always find this?” Derek asked as he took the sheets out of Stiles’ hands.

Stiles went into a detailed description of just where exactly he found this, but in the back of his head he was already making a plan for confronting Peter. Stiles couldn’t allow Peter to hurt Derek like this again.

~*~*~

Stiles had been ringing Peter’s doorbell for the last five minutes. He was sure that Peter was home, the car was there after all and it wasn’t like Peter was at Derek’s place, and Stiles would continue doing this until Peter finally opened up for him.

It took another three minutes and by that time Stiles was ready to just break in again.

“You fucking asshole,” Stiles immediately said as he pushed past Peter into the apartment, who had just opened the door for him.

“Well, why don’t you come in?” Peter drily said and closed the door behind Stiles.

“Well, why don’t you shut the fuck up, for once?” Stiles snapped back, and Peter raised an eyebrow at him.

“And what has you in this kind of mood?” Peter asked, and Stiles narrowed his eyes at him.

“You damn well know that,” Stiles gave back. “How could you say that to Derek?” Stiles wanted to know.

“Say what?” Peter asked, and he frowned at Stiles.

“You know what you said. Do you really think he needs to know that you blame him?”

“That I—what is even going on here?”

“You think it’s going to help him if you just throw that at him?”

“It’s not going to help him if we don’t talk about it!” Peter yelled and threw his hands in the air. “I don’t like saying it as much as he doesn’t like hearing it.”

“Right, that’s why you were so eager to just throw it at him,” Stiles said, and Peter narrowed his eyes dangerously.

He stepped forwards, leaning in and breathing in deep and when he stepped back again his face was hard.

“Why do you smell so thoroughly of Derek? What did you do?” he asked Stiles, accusation clear in his voice, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Nothing,” Stiles exclaimed. “I was just there for him when you left him so completely broken.”

Peter flinched at that, his whole body going taunt and he slightly turned away from Stiles. “You were there for him without your clothes, I presume,” he muttered, clenching his hands at his sides, and that brought Stiles up short.

“Dude, Derek loves you. He would never cheat on you.”

Stiles was kind of nonplussed that Peter would even think that.

“He’s vulnerable,” Peter gave back, and Stiles sighed.

“And I’m not a predator. I was there for him, because you fucked up,” he said and stabbed a finger in Peter’s chest.

“And since when have you been in love with my mate?” Peter sneered, suddenly in Stiles’ face again and Stiles recoiled at that.

“I’m not—,” he started but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized that the rest of the sentence would register as a lie.

Stiles hadn’t been aware of his feelings, mostly because he had ruthlessly pushed them down ever since he knew that Derek and Peter were together, but Peter was right. He was in love with Derek.

“I didn’t know,” Stiles weakly finished, and Peter scoffed at that, as if he hadn’t expected anything else.

“Sure, because you’re defending all of your friends like that,” he said, and Stiles glared at him.

“Only the ones who are dating psychotic murderers,” Stiles snapped back, because Derek was his friend first.

And Stiles would never allow anyone to hurt Derek ever again. He had been betrayed by enough people already, especially people Derek had trusted, had been used and abused, had never had a relationship work out for him and Stiles wanted nothing more to do than shield him from anything Peter could do to him.

Because Peter was right. Derek was vulnerable, and Peter was one of the first who Stiles would suspect to prey on him.

“Right, because your best friend is dating a psychotic hunter and that is so much better. Allison tried to kill us all, might I remind you,” Peter said, and Stiles could do nothing but stare at him.

Peter was right, kinda, and it startled Stiles to think that Scott was in a similar position to Derek. But Allison had changed, and Peter absolutely hadn’t.

“Allison saw the error of her mistakes,” Stiles told him immediately. “She is nothing like before.”

“But I am,” Peter said and even though he tried to hide it, he sounded hurt. “Because I haven’t changed at all.”

Stiles opened his mouth to tell Peter that no, he hadn’t changed at all, but then Stiles thought back to the things he had learned about Peter in the last few weeks, and he might even have to admit that Peter wasn’t the murdering lunatic that Stiles had believed him to be anymore.

But still.

“You hurt him! You laid the blame at his feet, and that is the last thing he needs,” Stiles said, and Peter shook his head, looking down at his hands.

“I suggested therapy for him,” Peter lowly admitted. “I know someone who’s in the know about the supernatural and I thought it might help Derek if he could talk it out. If he could talk to someone who wasn’t so biased.”

“But what you said—,” Stiles started but Peter cut him off.

“You only heard the end of our fight,” he said, and he sounded pained. “Derek still blames himself. Do you really think I’d be with Derek if I believed the death of our family to be his fault? Do you think I would tell him even if I did?” Peter asked, but he didn’t even wait for Stiles to answer, not that Stiles had an answer anyway. “He blames himself, and he doesn’t believe me when I say that I don’t. I thought therapy might be a good start to make him see reason.”

“But why were you fighting?” Stiles wanted to know, because he didn’t quite understand that part.

“He thinks he doesn’t deserve to feel better. He thinks he deserves every nightmare, and every panic attack he has, and nothing I said changed that so far. He’s punishing himself and I can’t help him,” Peter said, and Stiles could see just how worried he was about that.

Stiles hadn’t known that Derek got panic attacks, that he still had nightmares, but then again, he wasn’t really surprised by that. It wasn’t like Derek ever got time to process anything, before the universe threw some new bullshit at him.

“You _hurt_ him,” Stiles still said, because Peter did, and someone needed to tell him.

Derek had been hurt so badly he had cried in Stiles’ arms and Stiles just hated Peter a little bit for being the cause of that.

“He’s not even sure you two are going to make up, that’s how badly you fucked up,” Stiles let him know, because he wanted Peter to hurt just like Derek was hurting.

Stiles instantly regretted his words when Peter’s face just crumbled before him. He seemed crestfallen at the prospect that Derek might not come back to him, that they wouldn’t make up or that Derek might never believe Peter when he said that it wasn’t his fault.

“I don’t know what to do,” Peter whispered, and he sounded so desperate, so heartbroken and helpless, that Stiles immediately felt for him.

“Peter—,” Stiles started but the words died in his throat when Peter looked at him.

“Do you think you could make him see reason?” Peter whispered. “You think you can get him to open up to you? Because I don’t know what else to do, and I’m going to lose him if I keep pushing. I might already have, so you have to pick it up,” Peter told him, and Stiles wanted to shut him up so badly.

“He’s not going to leave you,” Stiles told him.

“I’ve been pushing too hard,” Peter gave back. “And he trusts you,” he said, and Stiles could tell that it pained him to admit that.

Stiles wanted to hate Peter, but he couldn’t, because it was clear that Peter just wanted the best for Derek, no matter what it meant for him. In this moment Stiles could clearly see that Peter would step back, would leave Derek if he thought that would be better for him, if he thought that would help Derek to heal, no matter how much it would hurt himself.

“You’re not going to lose him,” Stiles said, because if he knew one thing, then that Derek loved Peter. “Do you think he would be trying so hard to make me see that you’re not a bad guy, if he didn’t love you?” Stiles wanted to know, but Peter shook his head.

“It just means that you’re important to him.”

“No, you idiot! It means that _you_ are important to him. Important enough that he wants his friends to like you. If he would just see you as a family member, he wouldn’t care if I liked you or not. But you’re the most important thing to him, and he wants me to see it, too.”

“But you don’t,” Peter mumbled. “Maybe you’re seeing things much more clearly than he does,” Peter self-deprecatingly whispered.

“I believe that you love him,” Stiles said, no matter how much it pained him to admit that. “And I believe that you want the best for him. I still think you’re the bad guy here,” Stiles said and prayed that it didn’t register as a lie, “but I think you might be good for him, at least.”

Peter stared at him, clearly surprised by Stiles’ little speech, taken off guard by his honesty, but before he could open his mouth to no doubt destroy Stiles slightly positive view of him, Peter turned towards the door.

Not a second later Derek walked into the apartment and he still looked strung out and sad, but there was a determined set to his jaw. Stiles just hoped Derek wasn’t here to end things with Peter.

“I’m sorry,” Derek said and while Stiles let out a relieved breath, Peter stayed tense.

“I’m sorry, too,” he said but Derek shook his head and Stiles could tell that Peter immediately worried. If Derek didn’t want to forgive Peter for what he had said, then his apology could only mean that he was here to break up with Peter.

Peter seemed to have come to the same conclusion as Stiles, because he tensed up even further, setting his jaw and squaring his shoulders, like he was preparing to take a hit, but he looked as miserable as Stiles had ever seen him.

“So, that’s it then,” Peter said, and Stiles hated to hear the crack in his voice.

“What?” Derek asked and then took in Peter’s posture and immediately shook his head. “No, Peter,” he said as he stepped forward and cupped Peter’s cheek in his hand.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Derek told him. “You are right. Therapy might be good for me, I’m just—I’m not ready yet,” Derek admitted, looking down at the floor.

“That’s fine, as long as you know the option is out there,” Peter told Derek and put a finger under his chin to raise his head. “I didn’t mean to push you.”

“I reacted badly,” Derek said with a shrug and Stiles tried to melt into the wall.

He absolutely was not meant to witness this, and he wished the ground would just open up under him, to give these two the privacy they deserved.

“We both did,” Peter said, surprising Stiles yet again. “I should never have said that it’s your fault. I don’t blame you. I never have.”

“I know that,” Derek gave back. “It’s just hard to believe sometimes.”

“Because _you_ are still blaming yourself.”

“Yes,” Derek lowly said and then stepped forward to bury his face in Peter’s neck. “I might need some more time,” he said into Peter’s skin and Peter slung his arms around him.

“You can have all the time you want,” he promised, meeting Stiles’ eyes over Derek’s head.

Stiles nodded at him once, before he silently creeped towards the door.

He had intruded on them long enough already and he had a few things to think about himself. His feelings for Derek, for one thing, but also the soft way Peter had looked at Derek, how heartbroken he had seemed at the prospect of losing Derek, and the trust he was ready to put into Stiles.

Stiles had not expected any of these things, really, and he needed some time to digest it all.


	5. Chapter 5

Peter had money. He had to, given his job, no matter how many pro bono cases he took on, and it was more than obvious in the way he clothed. Stiles was pretty sure the coat Peter wore was worth more than Roscoe.

But that alone wasn’t enough to make Stiles angry. There were a lot of people with money out there. Hell, Derek had a lot of money, too. He just handled it differently.

Just by looking at Derek you would never know that he was richer than most of them would ever be in their life, but Derek was quiet about it. Sure, he had bought the loft, and he never seemed to think twice about buying something, but he wasn’t holding his money over everyone’s head.

Not like Peter was doing.

He never let them forget that he had money, always showing off and sneering at them when Erica said her family might not be able to afford their house any longer, when Boyd asked for a ride to school because he didn’t have enough for the bus or when Stiles complained about the repairs for Roscoe.

Peter was somehow always around to hear them worry over their money and he always got this cruel glint in his eyes, like there was nothing that made him happier than teenager struggling for their daily life.

“We’re no longer paying for my meds, but dad says we’re already so much in debt that we won’t afford to hold the house any longer,” Erica quietly said during one pack meeting and while Stiles felt for her, he really did, he couldn’t help but look over at Peter.

He was listening intently, small smile playing around his mouth and Stiles wanted to punch his stupid face in. But Derek was sitting right next to him and Stiles was sure that he wouldn’t approve of that.

It had taken them some time, but apparently Derek and Peter had eventually made up. Stiles was glad that they took their time with that, hopefully talking things through a bit more, and he had to admit that now that they were back together, they both seemed much more settled and happier.

Maybe they were good for each other after all.

Stiles felt sick for just thinking that, because he still didn’t like Peter, and so he got up and went into the kitchen, desperate to see something else than Peter’s smug face.

He wasn’t particularly surprised when Derek followed him, crowding close so that the rest of the pack wouldn’t hear them.

“Peter was right,” Derek mumbled, and Stiles rolled his eyes, because those were words he never wanted to hear.

“About what?” he still asked, because clearly Derek wanted to share.

“Therapy. It’s been good for me.”

Stiles could do nothing but stare at Derek in surprise.

“You’re really going to therapy?” he asked, because when Stiles had walked into that fight between them it had seemed like therapy was the last thing Derek wanted to do.

“Yes. Peter gave me the number of the guy he knows, letting me decide if I wanted to go or not.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow at that, because truth be told, Peter seemed more like the type to make an appointment for Derek and then drag him there by his ear.

“He would never force me to do anything,” Derek said, obviously reading Stiles’ mind and Stiles sighed.

“So you two also made up,” he said.

“Of course we did,” Derek said with a frown, like it had never even occurred to him that they might not make up.

“Peter didn’t seem to be so sure, when we talked,” Stiles muttered, and Derek stared at him.

“What?”

“He was afraid you would leave him. That he would lose you over this,” Stiles told him, and Derek turned around to look at Peter, his whole demeanor suddenly softer than it had been before.

“I would never leave him. I thought he was going to leave me, if I didn’t start attending therapy.”

“Is that why you’re going? Because he will leave you otherwise?” Stiles asked, and he hated himself just a little bit when he realized that he didn’t even believe that himself.

From what he had seen so far, Derek was the most important person to Peter.

“No,” Derek immediately said and shook his head. “We talked about it, and I’m going because it’s the best thing for me to do,” Derek explained. “He wouldn’t put a condition like that on our relationship.”

“You have a lot of faith in him,” Stiles muttered under his breath but of course Derek heard him.

“I love him.”

It was said so earnestly, with such sincerity, that Stiles could do nothing but throw his hands up in defeat. It seemed like Derek had never believed in anything as much as he believed in his love for Peter, and Stiles was unable to argue with that.

“Fine, whatever,” he mumbled. “Maybe I do have to admit that he’s not all that bad for you.”

Stiles was absolutely not going to mention just how much happier and more relaxed Derek seemed ever since he and Peter got together.

It was a visible change, a good one, and Stiles would never begrudge Derek that, no matter who he decided to be together with. Stiles didn’t have to like Peter, he just had to like the good Peter was doing for Derek.

“But I still don’t like him,” Stiles rushed out when Derek beamed at him. “I mean look at that. It’s not like he doesn’t have enough money to help the Reyes out for a bit.”

“You just wait,” Derek said with quiet confidence as he leaned forward and briefly rubbed their cheeks together.

Stiles flushed, and stumbled a step back, because while he totally had himself under control when Derek was just there, this level of scent-marking was a little bit much.

Stiles would have bet all the money he didn’t have on the fact that Peter had gleefully told Derek the extent of Stiles’ feelings but as Derek just looked at him in confusion, Stiles realized that Peter hadn’t told him about his embarrassing crush. Or feelings. Whatever.

“I have to—,” Stiles said and pointed behind him, but flinched away from the door when Peter suddenly strolled in.

“Dear heart, what are you doing to Stiles? His heartbeat is all over the place,” Peter purred out like the creeper he was.

He had no business even listening to Stiles’ heartbeat like that.

“Nothing,” Derek immediately said and looked at Stiles, taking in his flushed cheeks and listening for his erratic heartbeat.

“I didn’t do anything, did I?” he asked, suddenly more unsure and Stiles was quick to shake his head, before Derek could get the wrong idea.

“Nope, you’re fine,” Stiles said and glared at Peter when he smirked at him.

“You sure are, sweetheart,” Peter said and pulled Derek close, nosing at his cheek and kissing the corner of Derek’s mouth before he gently pushed him back towards the living room.

“You know,” Stiles said when Derek was seated on the couch again, “I still don’t like you.”

Stiles felt the constant need to reiterate that, and he adamantly refused to think why that might be.

Peter just raised an eyebrow at him and Stiles wondered if maybe that simple sentence had registered as a lie. What a horrible thought.

“But I’m glad you and Derek made up.”

Stiles could still so very clearly remember the desperate look on Peter’s face when he had thought that Derek might not come back to him and he never wanted to see that again.

“Thank you,” Peter muttered and carefully, lightly, dragged his hand over Stiles’ arm, scent marking him a bit more innocently than Derek had just a few minutes ago.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Stiles snapped at him, but he couldn’t deny that Peter had left a lingering warmth behind. It was pleasant, and Stiles hated it. “You’re still the actual worst, flaunting your money around when Erica’s family is so clearly struggling,” Stiles said because it was the first horrible thing that came to his mind. The only one right now, to be honest.

“Is that so,” Peter said with a cryptic smile and Stiles narrowed his eyes at him.

“You’re enjoying this,” he accused him, and Peter placed a hand over his heart in an overly dramatic gesture.

“You wound me,” he declared, and Stiles threw one last glare at him before he simply walked out of the kitchen, leaving Peter and his dramatics behind.

~*~*~

Beacon Hills had only one shelter and Stiles was a regular guest there. He usually came to cuddle and play with the cats, but he could also be convinced to walk the dogs every now and then.

“Where are my beautiful babies?” Stiles asked as he walked into the cat room and was immediately swamped by cats, trying to climb all over him.

But Stiles was looking for three specific cats, and his face lit up when he finally spotted them, dosing on a hammock.

“There you are,” Stiles mumbled and walked over, careful not to kick some of the other cats on the way.

The three cats were Stiles favorite. No one was sure if they were siblings from different litters, or if they were mother and kids, but they were inseparable. The shelter had tried to separate them at one point, because the youngest one could have gotten adopted, but it didn’t work out at all.

The cats didn’t stop screaming, and two of them stopped eating all together. In the end the shelter had asked for the cat back, because it was just an unbearable situation for all of them.

But getting three cats adopted together, especially when one of them had lost one leg and needed special medical attention, was more than difficult and so the cats had been a constant in this shelter ever since Stiles started to drop by almost two years ago.

Stiles would love to see them adopted, to know that they were well taken care of, but on the other hand he really loved coming back to them again, and again. It felt a little bit like they were _his_ in a way, and it was probably not helping that he had named them.

“Hey, Wynken,” he greeted the smallest one, who always came to him first.

He extended his hand for Wynken who immediately pushed her head into it, demanding cuddles. Blynken was only a step behind his sister, immediately traipsing all over Stiles who stretched his legs out to give him more playground. Felix was last, partly due to his missing leg and partly because he was just a prickly asshole, but he rubbed his head against Stiles’ foot, before curling around it.

Stiles smiled at the three of them, relishing in the peace being with them brought him, and he slightly dozed off, still lazily wriggling his fingers for Wynken to play with.

“Hey,” Susann, one of the volunteers suddenly said, and Stiles blinked up at her.

She seemed worried and he immediately sat up straighter.

“What’s going on?” he asked, and Susann sighed.

“It seems like we lost funding,” Susann whispered, crouching down next to Stiles and stroking Blynken when he came over to her. “They say we’ll have to close at the end of the month.”

“What?” Stiles asked, shocked at this news. “But what about the animals?” he asked, though he knew the answer.

They wouldn’t be relocated.

“They can’t do that!” he protested when Susann just shrugged, lips pressed tightly together, though she seemed just as worried as Stiles.

“I don’t know,” she said. “It seems like they can. I just wanted to let you know.”

“Thank you,” Stiles earnestly said and leaned forward to pick Felix up, cuddling him close.

He couldn’t even think about them being put down or he would start to cry right here and now.

~*~*~

“You’re down,” Allison said at the next pack meeting. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Stiles sighed and rolled his eyes when Allison fixed him with a hard stare. “Fine. They’re shutting down the shelter.”

“But the animals!”

Stiles shrugged because what else could he do. They both knew what would happen to them and Stiles still couldn’t say it.

“I’m so sorry,” Allison said, as she pulled him into a hug, and Stiles readily went.

He could need all the hugs right now.

When Allison finally let him go again, she turned to Erica, eyebrow raised at the other girl.

“You, on the other hand, seem unusually chipper,” she said, and Stiles laughed at the way Erica seemed to practically vibrate out of her skin, that’s how excited she was.

“We’re not losing the house!” she declared when she was sure that she had everyone’s attention and the room erupted in cheers.

“How did that happen?” Isaac asked, and Erica laughed.

“The bank called and told us that there apparently had been a misunderstanding in payments. They got everything in order now, and we are out of debt. My parents are still convinced it’s a mistake of the bank, but god, I haven’t seen them so happy in years.”

Stiles wanted to say that he hadn’t seen _Erica_ this happy in months, either, but his attention was drawn to Peter, who had stood up and walked into the kitchen.

Stiles narrowed his eyes, thinking back to the conversation he’d had with Derek and Peter a few weeks back, and he got up, following Peter.

“What did you do?” he asked Peter, who was staring into the fridge.

He turned around with a ‘Who, me?’ expression on his face and Stiles walked up to him and lightly punched his shoulder.

“What did you _do_?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Peter loftily said. “Clearly, you couldn’t think I have enough sway to convince a bank to drop some debt.”

“I’m not sure what to think, honestly,” Stiles admitted, and Peter smiled at him.

Stiles was taken aback, because this was one of the rare, honest ones that were usually directed at Derek, and not one of the many sarcastic smiles or smirks the pack usually got.

“I’d say that’s a step into the right direction,” Peter said and stepped close to drag his hand over Stiles’ shoulder again.

He had scent-marked him a few times in the last weeks, and every time he started higher on Stiles’ arm, and went further down. Today, he directly cupped Stiles’ neck and leaned in to briefly brush their cheeks together, just like Derek had done in this kitchen a few weeks ago.

Stiles could feel himself blush, heat shooting up in his cheeks, but he stayed his ground and even tilted his head back a little bit, to show Peter that he was accepting the gesture.

When Peter pulled back, he seemed surprised, as if he had expected more protest out of Stiles. But Stiles knew that Peter had done something with the bank, most likely paid off the debt that was surely there, and he wanted to show Peter just how grateful he was for his silent interference.

So Stiles leaned forward himself, rubbing their cheeks more firmly together, and he had to admit that he relished the startled look on Peter’s face.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed that Boyd is no longer asking for rides from any of us,” Stiles told Peter. “Thank you,” he whispered then, more honest than he had ever been with Peter, and then walked out, leaving a dazed Peter behind.

Stiles walked directly over to Derek and sat down on the couch next to him. Derek looked questioningly at him and Stiles leaned into his side, so that the others wouldn’t hear him.

“He paid off the debt, didn’t he? And he’s paying for Boyd’s bus ticket, right?” he asked, even though he damn well knew the answer to that.

Derek looked stupidly proud of Stiles, like he couldn’t be happier that someone finally saw that Peter wasn’t only evil, and Stiles cursed himself when he flushed yet again.

“Of course he did,” Derek muttered back, and Stiles sighed. “He would never allow the pack to suffer.”

“He really doesn’t make it easy to hate him,” Stiles mumbled, and Derek put an arm around his shoulder to pull him closer.

“He really doesn’t want to be hated,” Derek replied, “and he shouldn’t be. He cares so much. You just wait until you bring Roscoe to the shop the next time.”

Stiles stared at Derek with wide eyes, before he sighed and slumped more firmly against Derek’s side. Stiles really hated to admit it, but he started to see that Peter really did care for the pack. Had started a while ago, if he was being honest with himself, but now was the first time that he admitted to himself that he had been wrong about Peter.

“Then why is he making it so hard?” Stiles wanted to know and startled badly when Peter suddenly leaned over the back of the couch, kissing Derek’s cheek before he turned to Stiles.

“Maybe because not everyone deserves to know the real me,” he said lowly, and immediately walked away again, leaving Stiles to stare after him.

“He is still an asshole,” Stiles declared, and Derek laughed out loud, shaking with it, and Stiles was more pleased by that than he should be.

This was starting to be a problem.

~*~*~

When Stiles stepped into the cat room, he was immediately looking for Wynken, who was usually the first to greet him. But he couldn’t spot her, or Blynken and Felix, and Stiles felt how he started to shake.

The shelter was scheduled to be closed in two weeks and all the animals that could be relocated had already been sent away, but most were still waiting for their fate.

If they started with Wynken, Blynken and Felix, Stiles would break down crying and he wouldn’t even be ashamed of it. He loved the cats and if they were dead, he would grieve like they had been his. And they felt like his, especially since he had named them.

“They’ve been adopted,” Susann almost yelled as she stormed into the room. “They have a home now!”

“What?”

“They are not dead,” Susann told him. “I wanted to tell you before you went in here, but you just slipped past,” she said and punched him in the shoulder.

“So they are alright?”

“Better than, even. They have been adopted together and have a great home now. They are well looked after, I promise you that.”

“Thank god,” Stiles breathed and leaned against the wall, knees shaking with relief. “ _Thank god_.”

“And in other great news, we have a new sponsor, and the shelter won’t close,” Susann said, and Stiles stared at her.

“Really?” he asked, because he couldn’t quite believe that.

“Really,” Susann confirmed. “Boss-lady wouldn’t say who came through for us, or where the funding came from, but she assured us that the funding was safe for at least the next ten years, so I’m guessing some governor or whatever decided losing the local shelter was bad for business,” Susann said with a shrug, because she clearly was more concerned with the fact that it had happened, than by _how_ it happened.

There was a niggling thought at the back of Stiles’ head, insisting that it was Peter who had funded the shelter, but it seemed like a big stretch. Paying off the debt of a family and funding a shelter for ten or more years were two very different things, and Stiles was sure that Peter didn’t have that much money.

~*~*~

Stiles cursed when he fished his now fried phone out of the riverbank. It was soaked and didn’t even turn on anymore, not that Stiles had expected anything else, but it couldn’t hurt to try.

He squashed down on the urge to smash the phone against some stones, but his grip tightened enough to make the case creak.

“Good work, dude,” Scott said, dropping over Stiles’ back suddenly and Stiles startled.

“Yeah, good work, yay us,” he listlessly replied, mind already thinking about how he would ever afford a new phone. His dad would kill him. It was the third one this year.

“Shit, did it break?” Scott asked, poking at the dark phone.

“Fell into the water,” Stiles muttered and with a last sigh he pocketed the useless brick. Maybe he could at least salvage some contacts.

“That sucks,” Scott earnestly replied, but a second later he was already bounding over to Isaac, Stiles and his phone clearly forgotten.

Not that Stiles could blame him, it was a great victory they had gotten here today, with no major injuries on their side, and it was time to celebrate this. Stiles looked around, searching for Derek and Peter, and when he finally saw them, as far away from the pack as they could get, he walked over to them.

They both had taken some hits, like all of them had, but they appeared uninjured and something in Stiles relaxed at that. He briefly frowned when he realized that his worry extended over to Peter, but in the end, he just shrugged it off.

Peter had shown that he was a good boyfriend, a good ally and maybe even a good person, and he deserved some worry now. He had earned it.

“Thank you,” Stiles said, bumping his and Peter’s shoulders together when he finally reached them. “Your research saved our asses.”

“At least one of you recognizes that,” Peter breezily said as he stared at Scott and Stiles sighed.

“I’m sorry he doesn’t appreciate your work.”

“And you do?” Peter asked surprised and Stiles only hesitated a second before he nodded.

“Yes, I do.”

Derek beamed at him like he had given him the greatest gift ever and Stiles shuffled his feet around, uncomfortable with that much gratitude from Derek.

“One more reason to do it then,” Peter muttered and hesitantly dragged Stiles into his side, clearly expecting Stiles to protest or to step away.

But Stiles went easily with the motion, allowing Peter to almost cover him in his scent, and returning the favor.

Derek looked at them like it was the best sight he had ever seen and when Peter extended his hand for him, he immediately stepped closer as well. Derek covered Stiles’ other side, making sure that he thoroughly smelled like the Hale’s and Stiles didn’t even had it in him to protest.

He felt safe and protected between them.

~*~*~

Stiles hadn’t forgotten about his phone, but he was trying very hard not to think about it too much. He didn’t have the money to replace it, and so he fell back onto his tested method of ignoring a problem until it eventually went away.

It wasn’t quite working, because Scott kept pestering him about it, asking almost daily when Stiles would finally get a new phone, and Stiles was so sick of always telling Scott that no, he did not have the money to replace it yet.

When Stiles came home and saw a shiny, brand-new phone on his desk he couldn’t even say that he was surprised, not really. He hadn’t waited for Peter to buy him a new one, but Stiles _had_ been sure that if Peter knew about his plight, he would do something about it.

Stiles picked the phone up, scrolling through the contacts that _someone_ had already programmed in, and his frown deepened with every second that he couldn’t find Peter’s number in it.

_‘Give me Peter’s number,’_ he sent to Derek when it was clear that Peter had programmed in every one of the pack but not himself.

Derek’s reply was prompt, just a string of numbers, and Stiles immediately saved them before he shot of another text.

_‘Next time you better put your number in as well, asshole.’_

_‘And why would I do that?’_ came the immediate reply and Stiles sighed.

_‘So I can thank you, obviously.’_

_‘Are you going to do that then?’_ Peter wrote back, and Stiles briefly had to fight the urge to throw his phone against the nearest wall. But it was too shiny and new to destroy it already.

_‘Thank you’_ , Stiles wrote, and the phone was silent for a few minutes.

When Peter answered, it was with a picture and Stiles’ mind immediately went down the gutter. Still, he clicked on the message, not thinking about what it might mean that he willingly clicked on a possible dick pick, and so it took him a moment to understand what it was that he was seeing.

It wasn’t a dick, far from it, since Peter wasn’t even in the picture, but it took Stiles a second or three to recognize the cats he saw.

_‘!!!!!!!!!!!!’_ was all he sent back to that and this time Peter’s reply was faster.

_‘Wynken, Blynken and Felix? Really, Stiles?’_

_‘I knew it was you!!’_ Stiles replied, even though he really hadn’t known. ‘ _Are they behaving? Do they miss me?‘_

_‘You know where I live,’_ was Peter’s answer and Stiles had grabbed for his keys before he could consciously think about it.

If it meant he could see his babies again, he would always willingly go to Peter’s place. It had nothing to do with the fact that maybe he wanted to thank Peter in person. Nothing at all.


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles was breathing harshly, gulping in breaths and wildly looking around. Redcaps were more vicious than any of them had thought, and they had attacked all at once. It had been touch and go for a while there, but now it looked like it was all okay. There were a few redcaps left, but Stiles was confident that they could handle them as well.

“What an ugly colour, red,” Peter suddenly said, quickly walking up to Stiles and there was a cry of outrage, before one of the redcaps threw itself at Peter.

Stiles startled badly, because it had come right from behind him and he watched in surprise as Peter went down when the redcap hit him, only to throw it clean over his head, rolling back and springing up again.

“You know if you would just shut up for a second or five, you would actually be useful,” Scott snapped at Peter.

“Whatever you say, oh alpha mine,” Peter told him, dusting off his arm and drawing his jacket close, looking like he couldn’t give a care in the world over what Scott thought.

When the fight was over, for real this time, since all the redcaps were dealt with, Stiles flopped down on the ground, too exhausted to check up on all the others. He knew that none of them were seriously hurt, and that was all that was important right now.

“Derek is hurt,” Peter said suddenly, leaning over Stiles, who blinked up at him.

“No, he’s not,” Stiles said, because he had kept an eye on Derek. “He’s right there—,” he trailed off when he wanted to point at Derek and couldn’t find him.

“He went home,” Peter said and held his hand out.

Stiles sighed but he gripped it and allowed Peter to pull him up.

“Then we better look after him,” Stiles decided, not that he would have done anything else. “Meet at the loft?”

“He’s not at the loft,” Peter said and gently rested his hand on the small of Stiles’ back and steered him towards Peter’s car.

Stiles absolutely did not lean into his warm hand.

“What?”

“He hasn’t slept at the loft since I got the cats,” Peter admitted, and Stiles stopped dead in his tracks.

“They love him, don’t they,” he sighed, because of course they did.

“They love him to death,” Peter nodded. “It would be offending if it wasn’t so damn adorable.”

“Damn,” Stiles muttered because he could just imagine it.

“Yeah,” Peter sighed in agreement and Stiles stared at him.

If he was honest, he was still waiting for Peter to be angry with him that he fell in love with Derek, but it never came. Instead Peter almost commiserated with him, in a way that made Stiles feel like he was included instead of being made fun of.

“What do you need me for?” Stiles asked in an attempt to distract himself. “You know all about werewolf physique and healing. What could I possibly do?”

“I need you to take care of him,” Peter immediately said and opened the door for Stiles, waiting for him to get in, before he also closed it.

Stiles impatiently waited for Peter to go around the car and slide behind the wheel, before he turned towards him.

“Explain,” Stiles demanded, and Peter sent him a smile that was entirely too fond.

“Derek doesn’t want me to take care of him,” Peter said as he started the car.

“What?” Stiles said because Derek was so head over heels for Peter, that just didn’t make sense.

Peter always took care of Derek.

“He thinks I shouldn’t have to take care of him after everything he did to me,” Peter lowly explained and just as Stiles wanted to get outraged at that, Peter went on. “We’re working on it, but it still ends in a fight more often than not. I’m just—can you look after him today?”

“Peter Hale, are you asking for help?” Stiles couldn’t help but ask, because surely this had to be a first.

“Actually, yes,” Peter immediately gave back, not even hesitating in his admission.

Stiles stared in shock at him, because he couldn’t quite believe his ears.

“So will you help me?” Peter asked, and Stiles shook himself out of his surprise.

“Of course I will,” Stiles said.

He wasn’t even trying to pretend that he was only helping because this was about Derek. Stiles was pretty sure that he would always help if Peter just asked for his help, and that was a frightening thought.

~*~*~

Derek wasn’t doing too well when Peter and Stiles entered the apartment. He was still bleeding and cursing like a sailor because he couldn’t get the cats to leave him alone long enough to take care of his wounds.

Stiles stopped in the doorway of the bathroom, desperately trying not to laugh. Derek had taken his shirt off, but that was as far as he had gotten. He was still bleeding, the blood running down his side and soaking into his jeans, but whenever he reached out for a washing cloth Wynken darted forward, demanding to be petted and Stiles had to press his lips together to stop cooing when Derek just sighed and then gave in.

Blynken was curled up on Derek’s shoulder, small enough to fit there comfortably and he had his head pressed into Derek’s neck. It was severely limiting Derek’s movements, but he was careful to not dislodge him. Felix was on the ground, but his head was on Derek’s foot, and he had clearly fallen asleep there.

Whenever Felix let out a content huff, or Blynken purred or Wynken demanded yet again to be petted, Derek let out a defeated sigh, but he always gave in; not moving or immediately reaching out for Wynken again.

“He’s too cute, isn’t he?” Peter suddenly whispered right next to Stiles’ ear, and Stiles startled slightly.

“Yeah,” he gave back, carefully gauging Peter’s reaction to his admission, but Peter was smiling, still watching Derek fight a losing fight against the cats, and he seemed so much softer than normally.

Stiles cursed how much it appealed to him, seeing Peter like that.

“I see you have some problems, big guy,” Stiles called out eventually, thinking that if he waited any longer, he would just die from the cuteness of it all.

Derek startled, clearly not having realized that Stiles and Peter were there and had been watching him for a few minutes already.

“What are you doing here?” Derek asked immediately, narrowing his eyes at Peter. “I’m perfectly able to look after myself.”

“Why do that, when you can have Stiles look after you?” Peter smoothly gave back and pushed Stiles forward. “I’m going to make dinner.”

Peter immediately walked back out, leaving Stiles to take care of Derek and Derek stared angrily after him.

“I don’t need your help either,” he huffed out, but when he reached for the washcloth, he saw that Wynken had settled on top of it and clearly Derek was too soft to just push her away.

“Are you sure about that?” Stiles asked. “Because you’re still kinda bleeding there.”

Which was worrying now that Stiles really thought about it, because Derek should have healed by now.

“It’s nothing,” Derek immediately said, and Stiles raised his eyebrow at him.

“Sure, I can see that,” he said as he stepped forward to get a second washcloth out of a cupboard.

“I’m fine,” Derek snapped as Stiles held the washcloth under water.

“Derek, Peter asked me for help, that’s how not fine you are,” Stiles told him. “He’s worried about you, and kinda hurt that you won’t let him help,” Stiles went on, hoping that maybe he could guilt trip Derek long enough to put something on the claw marks in his side.

Derek immediately deflated at that, and tiredly rubbed his hand over his face, though he did still seem angry.

“He’s already doing so much for me,” Derek whispered in an attempt to not let Peter hear. “He shouldn’t have to take care of me like this as well, especially not since I didn’t care for him when he was burned and in the hospital.”

“Are you seriously still carrying guilt about that around with you?” Peter suddenly asked from the door and Derek startled badly enough to dislodge Blynken, but his werewolf reflexed prevented him from tumbling to the ground. “I thought you were working on that in your therapy.”

“We’re working on it,” Derek told him. “It doesn’t mean I’ve been spontaneously cured.”

“Fair enough,” Peter admitted and came into the room to take the cloth from Stiles’ hands. “But you could at least listen to me and my heartbeat when I tell you that I don’t mind looking after you at all.”

“I might even do that, if that was the only reason for our fights,” Derek said, but he sighed and slightly turned around to give Peter more room to work with.

“Should I just leave?” Stiles asked from the doorway, where he had retreated to when Peter had entered the bathroom.

He usually was too damn curious for his own self, and he desperately wanted to know what they were fighting about besides Derek’s never-ending guilt, but it felt way too personal for Stiles to just stand around and watch them and listen in. No matter that they clearly didn’t mind Stiles being there at all.

“Peter’s hurt as well,” Derek said instead of answering Stiles’ question and Stiles’ immediately looked at Peter.

“What?” he demanded to know, hand’s already reaching out, because he hadn’t seen Peter get hurt at all. “Where?”

“It’s nothing,” Peter immediately said, and Stiles narrowed his eyes at him.

“I don’t believe a word you say,” Stiles muttered and Derek angrily batted Peter’s hands away, immediately reaching up to steady Blynken on his shoulder again.

“It’s the only reason he brought you here,” Derek said. “He thought that if you took care of me, he would have enough time to clean up in the kitchen.” Derek’s eyes were blazing blue, he was so angry. “But I can still smell the blood on you.”

“What the fuck, Peter?” Stiles called out and Peter only shrugged.

“I thought it was a good compromise.”

“How the hell would you think that?” Derek asked him, seemingly curious, but Stiles could hear the underlying threat in his words.

Derek was furious, and Stiles thought he had every right to be.

“You always do that. You always take care of me, when I’m hurt, but you never ever allow me to do the same. And I don’t get it,” Derek said, and Stiles was surprised to hear just how helpless Derek sounded.

“It has nothing to do with you,” Peter was quick to reassure him, and Derek scoffed.

“I know that, because clearly this is a you problem, but I still don’t get it!”

“And you don’t have to,” Peter said, before he threw the washcloth into the sink and stormed out of the kitchen.

“When did he get hurt?” Stiles wanted to know, because he had kept a close eye on everyone during the fight, and he hadn’t seen anything hit Peter at all.

But just as Stiles was asking, he suddenly knew when it had happened.

“When he was attacked by that last redcap,” Stiles answered his own question and Derek nodded.

“The redcap who was about to punch through my back,” Stiles slowly went on, because suddenly it all fell into place.

Peter had been too far away to stop the redcap from attacking Stiles, so he had snarked at it, made it angrier than it already had been, in an attempt to draw it to himself and away from Stiles.

“He snarked at it to protect me,” Stiles whispered and still, Derek wasn’t saying anything.

Which was a good thing, since Stiles mentally went through all the times Peter had snarked during a fight, had knowingly antagonized one of the bad guys to draw them away from one of the pack members only to be attacked himself. Stiles would have thought that Peter would only be concerned with his own and Derek’s safety, but he had protected everyone at one point, and Stiles more than anyone besides Derek.

“How often is he hurt after fights?” Stiles wanted to know, already dreading the answer.

“Almost always.”

“But he never said anything,” Stiles complained, throwing his hands up in the air.

“And he never will,” Derek lowly said, and Stiles remembered that he and Peter were having a fight about this right now.

“He never tells you either,” Stiles guessed and cursed when Derek nodded.

“He makes sure I’m okay, treats my wounds and then puts me to bed or on the couch. And then he goes to look after his own wounds. Last week he stitched his own back together, because he refused to let me help.”

“Unbelievable,” Stiles muttered and then looked at Derek’s stomach. “Are you okay to dress that yourself?” he asked, pointing at the still sluggishly bleeding wound.

“Sure,” Derek said, sounding confused and Stiles squared his shoulders.

“I’m going to—,” Stiles said, pointing over his shoulder and Derek’s eyes went wide with surprise.

“You really don’t hate him at all, do you?” he asked with a small smile and Stiles clenched his teeth together before he shook his head, even though it was hard to admit.

No, he really didn’t hate Peter at all. Not anymore.

“Go,” Derek told him. “I have this covered.”

Stiles eyed him for a moment, gauging just how true that statement was, before he finally sighed and turned around to go find Peter. If Derek proved to be unable to dress the wound himself, Stiles could still do it for him later.

Peter was in the kitchen, preparing food like he had promised earlier but Stiles could also see a bloody bandage in the thrash.

“Show me,” Stiles demanded, and Peter squared his shoulders, back straight and his grip on the spoon he was using to stir the sauce tightened.

“It’s nothing.”

“Great, then show me,” Stiles insisted, flinching slightly back when Peter whirled around suddenly.

“And then what, huh? You’re gonna make fun of me for getting hurt? You think I want to know that you’re all pleased that the redcap got to me?” he snapped, and Stiles took a step back in surprise.

“Peter,” he started, horrified that this was what Peter thought. “Peter, you can’t think I don’t care about you,” Stiles said and carefully stepped forward, slowly, to give Peter time to move away if he wanted to.

But Peter stayed glued to the spot, warily watching Stiles approach.

“After everything, you really think I still hate you?” Stiles asked, and he could hear Peter’s teeth grind together when he clenched his jaw.

“You’re here for Derek,” he pressed out. “It’s not like you give a fuck about me.”

“Okay, okay, stop for a moment,” Stiles said and made the time out sign with his hands.

“Let’s just pretend for a second that I don’t care about you at all,” he said, and his heart clenched painfully when he saw Peter’s face at that. “Do you really think Derek doesn’t care about you either?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Peter asked and avoided to look at Stiles directly.

“You’re not letting him help,” Stiles explained. “Look at how you feel when he doesn’t allow you to care for him. Do you really think he feels any different when you slink off to take care of your own injuries?”

“Why do you even care?” Peter snapped at him, but Stiles could see that he had hit a nerve.

“I care about you,” Stiles snapped right back, because how could anyone be this dense.

Peter stared at him, before he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Yeah, right,” he muttered and then nodded towards the bathroom again. “You better get back there, he’s been cursing for the last minute.”

“He’s been cursing, because you are a stupid, oblivious asshole,” Stiles immediately gave back and didn’t move an inch. “Now show me the goddamn injury.”

“And then what?” Peter asked. “What are you gonna do when you see it?” Peter wanted to know and for the first time Stiles saw some fear shine through his usually impeccable mask.

“I’m gonna tell Derek what to bring back here, so we can properly dress it.”

“No,” Peter said after a short moment of consideration and then he just walked off.

Stiles stared after him, mouth open in surprise and he only closed it when Derek came out of the bathroom.

“How do you deal with him, when he’s always this—this frustrating?” Stiles wanted to know, because all he wanted to do right now was to strangle Peter until he passed out, just to deal with his fucking injury.

“I love him,” Derek simply said, and Stiles deflated at that.

“He’s afraid,” Stiles mumbled, even though he knew Peter could still hear him.

“Of what?” Derek asked, concern clear in his voice, and Stiles figured that Derek never had seen that brief flash of fear.

It warmed something in Stiles when he thought that Peter might have only allowed him to see him that vulnerable.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what happened during the coma, but I would guess that it stems from that time.”

“He said he doesn’t remember most of it.”

“I think he’s lying,” Stiles slowly said. “I think he remembers a great deal more than he lets on, and I don’t think it’s good.”

“What do we do?” Derek asked, and he sounded lost.

“Get the stuff from the bathroom,” Stiles told him and then went after Peter, not even hesitating when he realized that he was hiding in his bedroom.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” Stiles announced when he barged into the room. “You’re going to take off that shirt and show us the injury. And then you’re going to dress it yourself. We won’t do it, but we have to be sure that it’s properly treated.”

“Go away, Stiles,” Peter said from his position on the edge of the bed, voice muffled because he was talking more to the floor than to Stiles.

“No,” Stiles instantly said.

“Peter, please. We’re not going to touch you, we just want to make sure you treated it properly,” Derek chimed in and Peter visibly deflated.

Stiles would tease Peter about his utter disability to deny Derek anything, but he was just lucky they had that advantage of their side.

Peter stood up, suddenly moving much more gingerly than he had before, and he carefully took the shirt off. His chest was a mess, hastily patched up, but parts of it had already bled through and the only reason Stiles hadn’t noticed it earlier was because the shirt Peter was wearing was black.

“What now?” Peter asked through clenched teeth and Stiles wanted to step forward and hug him until he relaxed but he knew that that wasn’t what Peter needed right now.

“Now you’ll take that dressing off and let me look at the wound,” Derek gently said, no demand in his tone, but he was looking expectantly at Peter.

“Fine,” Peter pressed out and peeled the bloody bandages off, revealing just how torn up his chest was.

Stiles wondered how he hadn’t noticed it earlier, but then he realized that Peter had his jacket closed when he had helped Stiles up, and this was not the shirt he had been wearing during the fight. He had already changed it.

Peter clearly was good at hiding his own injuries.

“Gently clean it up, but don’t use too much water,” Stiles instructed and pointed towards the basin Derek had brought with him.

Peter hesitated for a long moment but then he moved, doing as Stiles had told him.

“Now take the gauze and put it on the wound, before you tape it,” Stiles said, and Derek pressed close to his side, watching Peter with bright eyes as he followed Stiles’ instructions.

“I could have done that myself,” Peter complained, and Derek took one step forward.

“You did it yourself,” he reassuringly said.

Stiles wanted to point out that before, Peter had taped right over the wound, without gauze, but he decided to keep his mouth shut for once in his life. Peter was already on edge, he didn’t need Stiles to point out just how bad his first attempt had been.

“Can I hug you now?” Derek asked, and Peter stayed tense for a moment longer, before he finally relaxed.

That was clearly all the invitation Derek needed because he rushed forward, hugging Peter hard and scenting him.

“I’m sorry, my heart,” Stiles heard Peter mumbled and he discreetly moved out of the room, trying to retreat to the kitchen and save whatever was left of the dinner Peter had been preparing.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Peter suddenly asked and looked expectantly at Stiles.

“Giving you two some space?” Stiles honestly said, because what else should he be doing.

“Come here,” Derek said, and held his hand out, but Stiles was looking at Peter, checking if this was okay with him.

Peter had been in a vulnerable position, and it must have been hard letting them in at all, so Stiles didn’t want to overstep any bounds right now.

But Peter nodded once, and Stiles didn’t hesitate any longer. He stepped forward, taking Derek’s hand and allowing him to pull him into their hug. Derek was warm at his left side, his arm wrapped around Stiles’ back whereas Peter had his hand fisted in Stiles’ shirt, clinging almost desperately to him.

Stiles put his own arm around Peter, allowing him to hide his face in Stiles’ neck. Stiles stroke his hand up and down Peter’s back, hating the way Peter was still tense in their arms. They stayed like that until Peter fully relaxed, almost melting against them.

Stiles briefly thought that a few months back he wouldn’t even have cared if Peter got hurt at all, but he had more important things to think about right now. Like how they could make sure Peter didn’t get hurt again, and if it happened, how to best take care of him afterwards.

Stiles never wanted to see him that afraid again.


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles never would have seen this coming, but he was spending almost as much time at Peter’s apartment as he spent at home. And it wasn’t even because of the cats.

Somehow Peter and Derek had dragged him into bi-weekly dinners, Peter always cooking for them and not allowing Stiles to even do the dishes. Stiles’ always spent Monday afternoon at Peter’s apartment as well, to keep the cats company when Peter was at work and Derek at therapy and then there were all the evenings Stiles and Derek were taking care of Peter after a fight.

The monsters were still going crazy around Beacon Hills and so there was at least one fight a week, sometimes even more, and it was more than draining for all of them. And Peter still got hurt more than anyone else, trying to protect the pack with his asshole-ish attitude, not that anyone noticed.

In the last weeks Derek and Stiles had gotten really good at talking Peter through patching himself up, and Peter had gotten really good at _allowing_ them to do that. He was still hiding his injuries from the pack, but no longer from Derek and Stiles.

Stiles had a hard time admitting it, but every time Peter looked at them expectantly to talk him through taking care of himself, every time Peter followed their gently worded orders, something warm and happy uncurled in his chest. Stiles always pushed it aside at those times, deciding to not examine it further right now, because taking care of Peter was more important, and then he just always forgot about it until the next time Peter needed them.

Except for now. Now, all Stiles could feel was an overwhelming amount of panic, because the ifrit they were fighting hadn’t needed any incentive at all to attack Derek and Peter almost exclusively. It was like it could smell their fear, and the flames it threw at them burned so bright they were almost white.

Stiles had dragged Derek out of the way of an oncoming firestorm, but Derek still got singed around the edges and now he was hyperventilating on the ground. Stiles was crouched in front of him, though he wasn’t sure what he could do here.

His bat couldn’t do anything about fire, and he couldn’t protect Derek at all. The only thing Stiles was able to do was to tell Derek that he was there, that his pack was safe, and that no one was burning again. And then hoping to hell that the ifrit wouldn’t make a liar out of him.

“Derek, you’re okay,” Stiles said, pulling Derek close and trying to give him something else to smell besides his burned clothes.

Derek was still shaking when the ifrit started to stalk towards them and Stiles could do nothing to protect Derek. He wasn’t strong enough to pull him away, and he wasn’t strong enough to fight the ifrit.

The only thing Stiles could do was shield Derek with his body.

Just as the ifrit raised its’ hand to throw another devastating attack at them, Peter jumped in front of them.

“No,” Derek breathed out, trying to push Stiles away and dart forward, but it was already too late.

The flames engulfed Peter as Stiles and Derek stared on in horror.

The pack attacked the ifrit again, and the flames around Peter went out suddenly, leaving Peter to drop to the floor.

Stiles could smell the burned flesh, could see the smoke rising from Peter, and he wanted to gag at it all, but Peter needed him and so instead he rushed to his side, Derek stumbling after him.

“No, no, no, _nonono_ ,” Derek chanted, and Stiles was mentally with him, but he didn’t say anything.

One of them had to keep their head straight right now, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be Derek.

“Derek, let me see,” Stiles demanded and gently pushed Derek to the side, so he could get a good look at Peter.

It wasn’t quite as bad as Stiles had feared, but the burns were concentrated on Peter’s right side, and Stiles didn’t even want to think what this did to him, mentally.

“We need to get him home,” Stiles said, because Peter was lying on the dirty floor and if Stiles knew one thing about burns, it was that infection was the biggest risk.

And they weren’t going to risk Peter.

“Stiles,” Derek whispered, and he sounded so lost and hurt.

“It’s gonna be fine,” Stiles promised him, because it had to be. “Come on, big guy,” Stiles said and pointed at Derek to pick Peter up.

It couldn’t be avoided that Derek touched a few burned places and Stiles winced when Peter whimpered at that. Derek clearly wanted to be anywhere else right now, but there was a determined look on him too.

This time, he would take care of Peter, Stiles knew it.

“Can you get him into the apartment without my help?” Stiles asked, and Derek stared at him with wide eyes, clearly hurt that Stiles was abandoning them.

“He needs us,” Derek whispered, and Stiles stepped closer, trying to reassure Derek with more than just his words.

“I know that, but we need the healing paste Melissa has. It will speed up his recovery.”

“Oh,” Derek breathed out and then nodded. “I can handle it, go.”

Stiles nodded at him once, one last lingering look at Peter, making sure that he was still alive and in no immediate danger of dying, and then he left Derek to get Peter into his car on his own.

Stiles sprinted towards the jeep, jumping in without stopping and then he drove off. On the way to Melissa he guiltily thought that he shouldn’t have left the pack behind like that, they were still fighting after all, but when he was honest with himself, he _had_ taken care of his pack.

And he was still taking care of his pack right now.

Scott would just have to deal with that.

Stiles haphazardly parked the jeep in front of the hospital, throwing the door shut without stopping and he ran through the hallways, frantically looking for Melissa. He skidded to a stop when he finally spotted her, and Melissa immediately looked up at him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, panic clear in her eyes.

“Scott’s fine,” Stiles panted. “I need the healing paste you have.”

“Who’s hurt?” she asked, but she motioned Stiles to follow her.

“Peter,” Stiles said and refused to squirm under Melissa’s searching gaze. “He got burned by the ifrit.”

“How bad?”

“Some blisters. It looks bad, but not as bad as after the fire,” Stiles told her, and he should know.

He had poked around in Peter’s medical files and had seen the pictures. The burns right now weren’t quite as bad.

“Your biggest concern is still infection,” Melissa told him. “Sterilize your hands before you put this on. Wrap it in gauze afterwards, until it starts to heal. It can take a few hours. You’ll need to regularly wipe the dead skin off, because the paste will heal the skin underneath and you need to make sure the old, dead one comes off.”

“Alright,” Stiles said, having listened intently. He could totally do this.

“Here you go,” Melissa said and dropped a jar into his hand. “It’s probably much more than you need, because this is some potent stuff, but don’t skimp on it. Too much is not gonna hurt him.”

“Thank you,” Stiles breathed out and then sprinted back to his jeep.

When he stopped at the apartment, Derek’s car was already parked in front of it and Stiles didn’t hesitate to run up the stairs. The door was slightly ajar, so Stiles immediately went in, kicking it shut behind him and he found Derek and Peter in the living room.

Peter was laid out on the couch, unburned side facing the back of it and Derek had taken his shirt and jeans off. It wasn’t quite as bad as Stiles had feared. Peter’s arm and the side of his face was burned, but despite how hot the fire of the ifrit had burned, it hadn’t quite burned through the clothes. A few patches of skin were red, and clearly irritated, but it was nothing to worry about, so Stiles concentrated on the bad burns.

“It’s not so bad,” Stiles reassuringly said, not only to Peter but also to Derek, who still looked like he was sliding into a panic attack. “I have the paste, and Melissa told me what to do. He’ll heal.”

“Stiles,” Derek whispered again, clearly still panicked, and Stiles grabbed the back of Derek’s neck, forcing him to look at Stiles instead of down at Peter.

“He will heal. And he has his pack around. He will be alright,” Stiles told him, voice firm and not allowing any back talk.

“Okay,” Derek said and nodded once before he bent down to card his fingers carefully through Peter’s hair. “Did you hear? We’re going to take good care of you. You will be alright,” he softly told Peter, who whimpered again.

Stiles opened the jar, before he quickly darted off to the bathroom to wash his hands and get some gauze. He would need to put it over the paste, but he was back before Derek could even ask what he was doing.

Stiles scooped up a generous amount of the paste, hesitating for only a second before he gently lathered it onto Peter’s arm.

Peter whined again, high in his throat, and Stiles could feel his eyes burn.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, again and again, as he covered all the burns on Peter’s arm.

He was distantly aware of the fact that Derek kept saying soft and sweet things to Peter, keeping up a steady stream of reassurances, in an attempt to calm Peter down. Peter was squirming around, trying to get away from Stiles and his prodding hands, but there was nothing for him to escape to.

Stiles tried to be as gentle as he could, but he had to cover all the burns, had to touch all the places that were clearly hurting Peter, and he hated himself just a little bit for causing Peter more pain. Especially like this, in a situation so reminiscent of Peter’s time in the coma, and a small part of Stiles wondered if Peter would hate him afterwards.

It had been a hard fight getting Peter to let Derek and Stiles take care of him at all, and this could ruin everything. Trauma was unpredictable like that, after all.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Stiles kept mumbling, even as he put the paste away, and grabbed for the gauze.

He gently wrapped every paste covered area, even putting some gauze on Peter’s face and when he was finally done, Stiles realized that his hands were shaking.

Derek was still talking to Peter, letting him know that he was still there, wouldn’t leave and Stiles stumbled back from the couch. His stomach was lurching unpleasantly, now that he wasn’t in crisis mode anymore and Stiles pressed a hand to his mouth.

He could smell the burned skin on his hands though, and it only made him gag even more.

“Stiles, you’re okay,” Derek suddenly said, crouched in front of him where Stiles apparently had sunken down to the floor without even realizing it.

“Peter,” Stiles whispered, and Derek shook his head.

“He’s asleep, and the paste is already working,” Derek reassured him.

“I hurt him,” Stiles muttered, unable to raise his head and look at Derek or even Peter. “He wouldn’t even allow us to patch him up when he was conscious. He’s gonna hate me for this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Derek said and tugged Stiles up, dragging him towards the couch. “Look at him,” he said, and Stiles hesitated a second before he actually did.

He had to swallow when he saw just how much skin was covered in gauze; it hadn’t looked like that much when Stiles had been in the process of doing it, but now he realized for the first time, just how bad it really was.

“Oh god,” Stiles moaned but Derek wouldn’t allow him to look away.

“No, look,” Derek insisted, pointing at Peter’s face, at least the part that was still visible. “Look at him. He’s relaxed.”

Stiles didn’t want to believe it, but he couldn’t deny that Peter did seem almost relaxed, his face smoothed out and even the lines of his body were soft. He didn’t look like he was in any pain, but Stiles wasn’t ready to believe it.

“I still hurt him,” Stiles said, remembering the pained whimpers Peter had let out.

“You helped him,” Derek determinedly said and wouldn’t allow Stiles to look away from Peter. “He’s gonna be alright, because you took care of him.”

“We both did,” Stiles muttered because he was sure that Peter wouldn’t have been this calm if Derek hadn’t been around and kept talking to him in a soothing voice.

“And he’s not going to hate us for that,” Derek firmly said.

“We’ll see,” Stiles said, because he already dreaded when he had to wipe the paste off Peter to clean the dead skin off.

Peter surely wouldn’t hate Derek, since he hadn’t touched Peter and hurt him further, but the matter was different with Stiles.

“Yeah, we will,” Derek gave back, sounding sure and steady, and then dragged the armchair over to the couch, right up to Peter’s head. “Come here,” he then said to Stiles and pulled him with him when he sat down.

Stiles ended up almost in Derek’s lap, but before Stiles could get up again, Derek slung his arms around his middle. It was then that Stiles noticed that Derek was still shaking as well, just like Stiles himself, and Stiles relaxed against Derek.

Peter had been burned, but they all had been hurt by that and some cuddles were just what they needed right now. And this was something Stiles could easily do. So Stiles put one hand on top of Derek’s arm, gently stroking his thumb over his skin, trying to calm Derek down, and with the other he reached out for Peter, just like Derek had.

They both kept his hands on Peter, letting him know that his pack was still there, that he wasn’t alone like he had been in the six years during his coma and then they settled in to wait.

During the night, Stiles regularly wiped Peter down, cleaning the dead skin off him and allowing the paste to heal him more quickly. Peter still whimpered when Stiles dragged a soft cloth over his skin, and Stiles had to blink back tears more than once.

But Derek was always there, keeping Peter calm with his constant reassuring words, stroking his hands over Peter’s unburned skin to let him know that Derek was there, hadn’t abandoned him like he had before. But he was also there for Stiles afterwards, holding him when his hands shook, and Stiles felt sick to his stomach for putting Peter through this.

“He’s almost healed,” Derek said when Stiles shook in his arms, tears threatening to spill over. “Just one more time and he’s healed. It barely even hurt him this time,” Derek reassured him and while Stiles knew that Derek was right, the single high-pitched whimper Peter had let out when Stiles had cleaned up the worst burn on his upper arm, was seared into Stiles’ brain.

“I can’t do it again,” Stiles admitted with a shaking voice, “I can’t hurt him again.”

“You won’t have to,” Derek said and before Stiles could protest, because they needed to do it one more time, Derek went on. “I can do it.”

Stiles went still in his arms, because he wouldn’t allow that. Derek had watched his family burn, twice now, and despite the strong façade Derek put up right now, Stiles knew that he was shaken to the core by what happened to Peter.

Stiles wouldn’t allow Derek to treat the burns that were so reminiscent of the ones Peter had endured when Kate had them all burned. Derek had gotten a lot better thanks to therapy and actually talking about things, but he was still convinced it had been his fault.

It was important that Derek was here right now, calming Peter and letting him know that Derek hadn’t left him again, but Stiles was convinced he shouldn’t have to deal with the wounds. Besides, there was no way to know how Peter would react if Derek was the one who hurt him, and so they were better off with sticking to Stiles for that.

Stiles could survive it if Peter hated him, had to, really, but Derek wouldn’t be able to. He loved Peter, and if Peter was afraid of him, connected him to trauma, that would break Derek. Stiles couldn’t allow that, would never let that happen.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Stiles said and moved away from Derek, squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath. “I can do it. I don’t know why I said that, I’m just tired.”

“You said it because you care for him,” Derek said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

It was true, even, but Stiles didn’t know how much Peter cared about him. Peter trusted Derek, implicitly, but the same wasn’t true for Stiles so the damage Stiles could do to him was a lot less than what Derek could do.

“It’s not important,” Stiles mumbled. “I’ll do it.”

“Stiles,” Derek started, clearly wanting to protest, but Stiles slipped away into the kitchen, getting something to drink, but mostly using the distance to take a few deep breaths.

It was just one more time. Peter was almost completely healed after all, and Stiles would only have to do it one more time. It was unlikely to even hurt Peter that badly anymore, because his wounds had mostly healed already. Stiles was just glad that Peter had remained unconscious through it all and he could only hope that Peter wouldn’t remember a damn thing about this.

Stiles jumped slightly when Derek’s hand suddenly came around him, circling him and pressing him close to his body as Derek nosed at the skin behind Stiles’ ear. Stiles’ heartbeat went through the roof, but he hoped that Derek would chalk it up to him being startled.

“Thank you for being here,” Derek muttered into his skin, making Stiles shiver all over, and Stiles prayed that Peter wouldn’t take this moment to wake up.

Peter seemed understanding of his crush on Derek, but surely there were limits to even that understanding. And Derek draped all over Stiles would surely be such a limit.

“Sure,” Stiles nonchalantly said and shrugged, effectively dislodging Derek before he swiftly stepped out of his arms, putting some distance between them. “You know I’d always help you. And you love him.”

Derek looked at him like he wanted to say something to that, but a groan from the couch made them both turn around. Peter was restlessly moving, and Stiles immediately rushed over, wanting to prevent Peter from dislodging the gauze still on his body.

“Shh, stay still,” Stiles rushed out when he was at his side, gently placing his hand on Peter’s chest to keep him down on the couch. “You don’t want to aggravate your wounds.”

Peter sluggishly blinked up at him, but his whole face softened when he saw Stiles.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Peter mumbled and Stiles’ heart missed a beat before it painfully clenched in his chest.

He just hoped that Peter was still too out of it to notice that.

“Derek’s in the kitchen,” Stiles told him, keeping his eyes on the gauze on Peter’s shoulder. “He’s getting you something to drink.”

“I know, can hear him,” Peter slurred out.

Stiles frowned down at him, suddenly more worried about his mental state than he had been before. Because if he knew that Derek was in the kitchen, then there was no explanation for him calling Stiles sweetheart. Maybe his injuries had taken more of a toll on Peter than both of them had expected.

“Derek,” Stiles called out, voice not really above his normal volume and Derek was at his side a moment later.

“He’s confused,” Stiles told him when Derek looked questioningly at him. “You need to stay here, make sure he doesn’t get scared.”

“He didn’t sound confused,” Derek gave back, but he put the glass of water down to put his hand in Peter’s hair, lightly scratching his scalp.

Stiles hummed instead of giving Derek a real answer and went on to carefully take the gauze off Peter, to clean him up one last time. He had used more than half of the paste already and he distantly worried if Melissa would be mad at him.

But Stiles pushed that thought away for now, concentrating on wiping Peter down, only to reveal fresh, pink skin under the old paste. There was only one last burned looking place high on Peter’s shoulder and Stiles breathed a sigh of relief at seeing it.

“He’s as good as new,” Stiles told Derek who was avidly watching Stiles work.

“Than the gods,” Derek breathed out and placed a kiss on Peter’s forehead. “Did you hear that? Stiles patched you all up again.”

Stiles wanted to protest, because it had been the paste and Derek’s presence that had healed Peter, but he bit his lip when Peter smiled slightly. It was good to finally see him conscious enough to react to what they were saying to him.

Stiles put some paste on the last raw looking place, gently laying one layer of gauze over it, before he stood up again.

“I’m done,” Stiles told Derek, and closed the jar with the paste. “I’ll leave it here, in case this last time wasn’t enough, and then I’ll get out of your hair.”

“What? Stiles, no,” Derek protested. “You’ve been awake all night, and it was more than stressful,” Derek said and even Peter made a protesting noise, though he didn’t open his eyes. “You can stay here.”

“I don’t want to intrude more than I already have,” Stiles gave back and went looking for his bag but startled when Derek snatched his wrist.

“Don’t leave, Stiles. Peter will need his pack around,” Derek said, and Stiles scowled at him, because that was just downright unfair.

“You’re still here.”

“You’re being dense on purpose now,” Derek chided, and steered him towards the bedroom. “Besides, I’m not going to let you drive like this.”

Stiles wanted to protest again, but when Derek pointedly looked down at his hands, Stiles realized that he was still slightly shaking. By now he chalked it up to exhaustion instead of being scared, because Peter was long out of any danger and Stiles had to admit that maybe Derek was right.

“Fine,” he relented. “We can move Peter to the bedroom, and I’ll take the couch,” Stiles said and tried to turn back around to the couch, but Derek kept pushing him towards the bedroom.

“No. You’re going to take some of our clothes and then you’re going to sleep in an actual bed,” Derek decidedly said and wouldn’t allow Stiles to protest.

When Derek opened the door to the bedroom, Wynken and Blynken immediately dashed out, hissing at Derek and Stiles as they ran past them towards the couch. Stiles wondered just how Derek had kept the presence of mind to put them in there, protecting Peter from getting cat hair all over his wounds, but as Felix went past Derek, lightly biting at his ankle, Stiles chuckled.

“They are not happy,” he commented, and Derek shrugged.

“They know Peter is hurt. You can bet that they are all going to cuddle the shit out of him now,” Derek said with a fond look back at the living-room, but Stiles was suddenly too tired to walk back and look if Derek was right.

Derek had to practically guide him through taking off his clothes and putting on Peter’s sweatpants and Derek’s shirt and Stiles was out like a light before his head even hit the pillow.

~*~*~

Stiles woke up warm and comfortable. It took him a moment to realize that he wasn’t in his own bed, and he needed a moment longer to realize that he wasn’t alone in this strange bed.

It was that thought that made him snap his eyes open, but he was met with Derek’s relaxed face, softly snuffling in his sleep and Stiles’ racing heart calmed back down again. Until he realized that someone was lying at his back, too.

Stiles craned his head around, and he couldn’t even say that he was particularly surprised to see Peter behind him in the bed. Stiles turned around, looking Peter over and letting out a long, relieved breath when he saw that Peter was completely healed up by now.

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” Peter mumbled and opened one eye to look at Stiles.

“Derek’s still asleep,” Stiles gave back, and Peter sighed, closing his eye again and snuggling deeper into the pillow.

“I know that,” he muttered, and Stiles frowned, but didn’t say anything else.

“How are you doing mentally?” Stiles asked softly after a few minutes, because while Peter might be physically fine, it didn’t mean that he was mentally doing so well.

“I’m okay, I promise,” Peter almost immediately gave back. “It wasn’t like the coma,” he reassured Stiles before he could even ask. “I knew you and Derek were there, that you didn’t leave me behind, and I could feel the paste working. And Derek kept pulling my pain, so really, it wasn’t like during the coma at all.”

“But I hurt you,” Stiles mumbled and startled when Derek suddenly pressed closer, putting his arm over Stiles to grab Peter’s hand, effectively caging Stiles in.

“It was unpleasant,” Peter admitted. “But you were doing it to help me, and I knew it. You don’t have to feel guilty about that.”

“He’s afraid you’ll hate him,” Derek helpfully muttered, and Stiles felt the urge to smack him with his elbow.

“We were still working up to physically help you with your injuries,” Stiles protested, because this had been a big thing for Peter, and he couldn’t see how both Peter and Derek were so relaxed about this.

“Sweetheart, I was unconscious and in desperate need of help. You really think I would hold it against you that you helped me, cared for me?” Peter asked, and Stiles honestly didn’t have an answer to that.

It had been his fear, yes, but now that Peter said it like that it seemed stupid, even to him.

“I think I should leave now,” Stiles said instead of answering Peter’s question, and he wriggled around, trying to get out from between Peter and Derek.

He stopped briefly when he saw the cats curled up between their legs, but in the end even that couldn’t stop him. He needed to get away from Derek and Peter, put some physical space between them, and while Derek and Peter looked at him with worried and questioning eyes, they didn’t stop him.

Stiles got out of bed, grabbed his clothes and decided that he was going to change at home. He needed to wash the clothes Derek gave him anyway before he could give them back, so he just decided to keep them on for now.

He dashed through the apartment, grabbing his bag and jar, before he jammed his feet into his shoes and rushed out of the apartment without a look back. Stiles thought that maybe Derek had followed him out of the bedroom, but he hadn’t said anything to stop him, and so Stiles hadn’t looked back to make sure.

Stiles took a moment to just breathe in his jeep before he finally drove off, leaving Derek and Peter and his more than confusing feelings about waking up in bed with both of them behind for now.

~*~*~

Stiles managed to the through most of the day without thinking too much about Derek and Peter just by virtue of keeping busy. He checked up on the rest of the pack, brought his dad dinner to the station and then returned the jar with the remaining paste back to Melissa.

“Did you take what you need out of it?” Melissa asked him curiously when he presented the jar to her, and Stiles frowned.

“No, Peter’s healed.”

“Peter’s what now?” she asked and stared at him in surprise.

“I put the paste on like you said, and regularly cleaned it up again. He’s all healed up, it really works like a miracle.”

“It’s not supposed to work so fast,” Melissa told him.

“But you said it would work quickly, and that I wouldn’t need so much. I almost used all the paste.”

“It depends on the burns, really,” Melissa explained. “How grave the injury was. But still, it should have at least taken a day, even for a werewolf. This is the fourth batch and I keep putting in less and less of the herbs, because they are so hard to come by. It’s still more potent than normal werewolf healing, but it shouldn’t have been that good.”

“I just put it on him,” Stiles gave back with a shrug. “I didn’t do anything. Maybe his wounds weren’t all that bad.”

“Or maybe you’re more magical than Deaton wanted to make us believe,” Melissa thoughtfully said before she put the jar away.

Stiles wanted to protest, because he wasn’t anything special, but he stopped before the words could make it out, because maybe he was. He really didn’t know anything about his powers, besides ‘being able to manipulate mountain ash’ and who even knew what else he was capable of.

Deaton had said that he just had to believe it, to make it true, and Stiles had prayed very hard yesterday that Peter would heal right up, without any lingering damage. Maybe he had helped the process along.

“How are Derek and Peter?” Melissa asked and sometimes Stiles wondered how it could be that she got all the compassion, where Scott sometimes had trouble understanding PTSD and triggers. It could have been Melissa’s training as a nurse, but Stiles thought that it ran deeper.

“Fine,” Stiles said, hoping that she wouldn’t pry any further, because he really didn’t want to talk about them right now.

Melissa eyed him curiously, but she seemed to pick up on his dismissive answer and put his hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

“I’m glad they are okay,” she honestly told him, and Stiles nodded once, before he awkwardly waved and bid her goodbye.

He had a hard time keeping his thoughts off Derek and Peter on his way home, but once he was home, and he no longer had something to do, it became an impossible task.

Stiles crawled into his bed, hoping that maybe the stress from last night would mean he could sleep some more right now, but all it did was remind him of how he woke up, warm and cocooned by Derek and Peter on either side and Stiles groaned.

He could deal with the fact that he had never seen anything as wonderful as soft and adorably sleep ruffled Derek, because he had made his peace with that. Waking up to that sight had made his heart stumble, but it was something he had expected. Up until that point he had never seen Derek asleep, hadn’t known just how much his face smoothed out when he was completely relaxed, and Stiles felt warm and fond just thinking about it now.

He snuggled deeper into his bed, pulling the blanket up over his head to keep the world out. He stayed there, motionless, for a few minutes, his eyes closed and remembering just how soft and content Derek had looked, laying there in bed right besides Stiles, before Stiles finally allowed himself to think about Peter.

Because while Stiles had expected his feelings at seeing Derek in bed next to him, he sure as hell hadn’t expected the same feelings for Peter.

But seeing Peter there, in bed with them, safe and visibly unhurt, trusting Stiles enough to be in the same bed as him, that had done things to Stiles’ heart he really didn’t want to admit.

Stiles groaned when he remembered how rough and adoring Peter’s voice had sounded when he said sweetheart, and how it had been the most precious sight to see him just open one eye at Stiles, hair ruffled and unruly for once instead of carefully slicked back just so.

“Oh my god,” Stiles mumbled when his stomach flipped just at the memory of that, but he couldn’t help it.

Peter had always been this perfectly poised, put together man in his head, harsh and cold, and Stiles already had a hard time adjusting his view of Peter over the course of the last few months. The image of the Peter in his head had shifted and evolved with every new thing Stiles had learned about him, but this, this was new and frightening.

Stiles felt so incredibly fond when he thought of Peter, just as fond as felt about Derek, and this really couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be falling in love with both of them.

“Fuck,” Stiles said with feeling and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, until he could see colorful splashes and then he stayed like that for a few seconds.

This was the actual worst.

Stiles stayed cocooned in this blanket, unwilling to face the world outside and probably even deal with his feelings, because he could hear his phone going off in his jeans on the floor, and since Scott barely even wrote him anymore, it most likely was Derek. Or even Peter.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He needed to get himself under control before he could ever face them again, needed to learn to control his heartbeat so it would never give away what he felt about Peter. It was already bad enough that he fell for Derek and he was more than lucky that Peter had decided to not rip his throat out for that.

But Stiles and Peter were barely even friends, not like Stiles and Derek were, and Peter surely wouldn’t appreciate these unwanted feelings. Plus, Stiles had no idea how jealous Derek was. Stiles couldn’t expect Derek to be just as fine with Stiles’ feelings as Peter was.

“For fucks sake,” Stiles muttered, because how did this even happen to him.

They were in a relationship! Already happy and in love. Why the hell did Stiles ever think that developing feelings for even one of them was a good idea. This could only ruin their friendship, but Stiles needed them too much to ever let that happen.

He would just have to learn to deal with these feelings, and quickly at that. Stiles was confident that he could evade Derek and Peter for a few days, had gone without seeing them every day for a while now after all. But he also knew that Derek and Peter would come knocking down his door if he stayed away for longer than a few days at once, they were concerned and sweet like that, and Stiles had to learn to deal with his feelings until then.

They couldn’t ever know. They were his friends, and he couldn’t lose them over something stupid like this. It wasn’t like Stiles hadn’t experience with being rejected after all. He just had to pretend that it already happened, and then work through that.

It would be fine. He could do this.

~*~*~

He couldn’t do this.

Stiles had a few photos of Derek and Peter on his phone, mostly pics of the pack, taken during one of their many pack dinners, but Derek and Peter always infallibly drew his eyes. And Stiles kept finding new things to appreciate about them.

The way they held themselves. They way Peter’s lips were just slightly quirked up, smirk clearly about to break out. The soft way Derek looked at Peter. How their shirts clung to their horribly defined chest and arms. Just how incredibly blue Peter’s eyes were.

Stiles almost threw his phone across the room at the last one. He had hoped exposure therapy would work, but it only made things worse, drawing his attention to things he had never even noticed before when they had been moving.

It took Stiles two days to realize that maybe he wouldn’t just get over his stupid crushes on them by staring at pictures of them all day long, and by then Stiles was completely convinced he could describe both of them down to the last stray hair on either of their incredibly muscled chests.

He dropped his head on the arm rest of the couch, groaning loudly and pitifully and his dad popped up over the back of the couch.

“Are you dying?” he seriously asked.

“Certainly feels like it,” Stiles muttered lowly before he louder said: “Nope, I’m fine and dandy.”

“Then why have you been spending all of your time here lately, when before you were always all over the place?” John wanted to know.

“Personal issues,” Stiles immediately gave back and prayed that for once his dad would leave his cop instincts out of this family interrogation.

But of course he wasn’t that lucky.

“Personal issues that relate to other people?”

“I hate you,” Stiles mumbled and sighed when John just chuckled.

“So, boyfriend problems?”

“I—what?!” Stiles yelled out, because he hadn’t yet had that talk with his dad.

“You think I don’t see you staring at your phone all day long?”

“It could be girls I’m staring at!”

“Not with how you keep complaining about chest hair,” John said with one raised eyebrow and Stiles flushed.

“Oh my god,” Stiles groaned and hid behind his hands, hoping that the childish notion of ‘if I can’t see you, then you can’t see me’ magically kicked back in again.

“Wanna talk about it?” his dad asked, and now he sounded all concerned and Stiles loved him just a little bit more for it.

“No, dad. I have to figure this out on my own. But thank you,” Stiles earnestly said and quickly leaned up to pull his dad into a hug.

“You know I’m here for you, whenever you’re ready to talk about it, right?” John asked, as he returned the hug.

“I know, dad,” Stiles gave back, his face properly hidden in his father’s chest, and he just enjoyed being held for a moment.

He knew that he couldn’t tell his dad anything yet, wouldn’t even know where to start anyway, but it was enough to know what his dad was there for him.

“Maybe you should answer that phone,” John suddenly said, and Stiles finally pulled away from him.

His phone was ringing, showing Derek’s name, and Stiles almost flew across the couch. Derek and Peter had messaged him a few times over the last two days, but Stiles had mostly ignored them in an attempt to get his head on straight.

But if Derek was calling then something must have happened. He hated to talk on the phone.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles immediately asked when he accepted the call, and there was a long silence on the other end.

Stiles could feel his throat tighten with panic, horror scenarios running through his head, because what if Derek couldn’t talk, what if he was unconscious or too hurt, what if he had lost the phone after calling Stiles.

So many possibilities.

“Nothing is wrong,” Derek finally said, and Stiles felt dizzy, he was so relieved.

“Don’t worry me like that then,” he said, slumping against the couch again, but he sat up when Derek answered.

“Like you have been worrying us?” Derek snapped, and Stiles pressed his lips together. “Where have you been?”

“Right here?” Stiles gave back.

“Wonderful,” Peter sarcastically said in the background, voice muffled, and Stiles thought he probably wasn’t supposed to hear him at all.

“Are you coming to dinner tomorrow?” Derek asked, and he still sounded angry and hurt.

“Do you not want me to?” Stiles timidly asked, because it certainly sounded like Derek did not want him there at all.

“Stiles, just tell us if you don’t want to come over tomorrow,” Derek finally just said with a sigh and Stiles closed his eyes, because of course he had already driven them away.

That was just what he did.

“Why would I not want to come?” he asked, voice small and all his fears running through his head.

They had already figured out that he was in love with both of them. Peter did hate him for touching him when he was unconscious. They had just endured his presence all this time.

“You tell me,” Derek said. “You ran out on us and then cut off contact.”

Stiles could hear Derek move around before a door closed and Stiles was certain that Derek had just left the room where Peter was, in an attempt to give them some privacy.

“Peter thinks that we took it too far, sleeping with you in that bed. He thinks you don’t want to come back again.”

“That’s not true,” Stiles choked out, because it _wasn’t_. He always wanted to go back to them. “I always want to see you.”

“Then why--?” Derek started, but he stopped himself from asking the question and instead changed direction. “Just come to dinner tomorrow, okay?” Derek lowly asked, and Stiles nodded, even though Derek could not see it.

“Of course, I’ll be there, I promise,” Stiles immediately gave back, for once in his life happy that Derek could hear his heartbeat, even over the phone, so he knew that Stiles wasn’t lying.

“Okay,” Derek said, but he still sounded subdued and Stiles inwardly cursed himself.

He hadn’t meant to worry them, never, and especially not over this.

“But you don’t have to if you don’t want to, you know that, right?”

“Derek, I always want to spend time with you,” Stiles hurriedly reassured him.

There was a brief silence on the phone before Derek muttered: “Good.”

“I’ll come by at my usual time, alright?” Stiles said, feeling warm all over at Derek’s clear approval.

“Please,” Derek answered and then hung up on Stiles.

“Fuck,” Stiles huffed out, knocking the corner of his phone to his forehead. “I’m so goddamn stupid.”

“Yes, you are,” his dad yelled helpfully from the kitchen, where he had gone to give Stiles some space.

“So, Derek, huh?” he asked, as he came back to the couch and Stiles flushed.

“Maybe,” he muttered, dropping his phone completely on his face, in hopes that it would hide just how much he was blushing right now.

“Isn’t Derek with Peter?” John asked, and Stiles wondered how monsters could ruin every goddamn good moment he ever had, but not this awkward conversation.

“Yes,” Stiles said when John just continued to stare at him. “Yes, Derek and Peter are a thing.”

“And you fit in there how?”

“I’m pretty sure, I don’t,” Stiles whispered, as he rolled around on the couch and dropped to the floor, getting his hands and knees under him just in time to not hit the floor with his face.

His dad just hummed at that but didn’t comment further and Stiles stared questioningly after him when he went back into the kitchen.

He didn’t have time to think about that, though. He needed to mentally prepare for tomorrow.

~*~*~

When Stiles knocked at the door, he hadn’t been prepared for how quickly Derek was yanking it open. He stared at Stiles for a second, before relief washed over his face, and Stiles realized that his behavior had made Derek, and possibly Peter, believe that he wouldn’t want to come back at all.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles blurted out and rushed forward to hug Derek. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“Where did you go to?” Derek muttered as he pressed his nose to Stiles’ hair, breathing him in and apparently just enjoying the closeness for a few seconds.

“I had to think some things through,” Stiles told him, praying that it didn’t register as a lie.

“Are you done with that now?” Derek wanted to know.

Stiles wanted to say “Yes, of course I am,” but he was sure that was a straight out lie, because he _wasn’t_. He still didn’t know what to think of the fact that he had fallen in love with both of them, he still didn’t know how to handle it at all but one thing he knew for sure.

“I’m done hiding while I work through it,” he promised, and Derek almost beamed at him, he seemed so happy.

“Good,” he said as he dragged Stiles into the apartment, pushing him towards the couch where Peter and the cats were already waiting for him.

“Hey,” Stiles greeted, suddenly awkward and nervous, because he had learned to deal with his crush on Derek.

But dealing with Peter, knowing that he had feelings for him too, that was new and kinda scary.

“Look at what the cats dragged in,” Peter drawled as he got up, plopping Felix into Stiles’ arms. “Quite literally I’m guessing since you’re not here for me, right?”

Peter didn’t give Stiles time to answer, he just walked out of the room, no doubt into the kitchen to prepare their dinner, and Stiles shared a look with Derek.

“What’s wrong?” he mouthed at Derek, careful to not make a sound, but Derek only shrugged at him, staring after Peter.

“I’ll see if he needs help,” Derek let him know, before he walked off too, leaving Stiles alone with the cats.

“I wouldn’t have expected it to be quite this awkward,” Stiles said into Felix’s fur, falling down on the couch and gathering Wynken and Blynken close.

At least the cats still wanted to spend time with him.

Stiles could hear Derek and Peter in the kitchen, muttering about something and Stiles wondered if he should have stayed away, if only to not cause any friction between these two. Before that thought could take root though, Derek came back out of the kitchen with a huff.

He took Wynken away from Stiles, cuddling her close himself and sitting next to Stiles.

“He’ll come around,” Derek said after a lengthy pause and Stiles dropped his head on the headrest.

“I told you he’d be mad that I touched him when he was unconscious and hurt,” Stiles gave back, because this was exactly what he had predicted.

He had seen Peter in a vulnerable moment, had not respected previously established boundaries, and now Peter didn’t want to be around him anymore. It wasn’t like Stiles hadn’t expected this, but it still hurt more than he had imagined.

“He’s not mad about that,” Derek reassured him, and Stiles turned his head towards him.

“But he _is_ mad about something.”

“Not really,” Derek sighed. “He’s just really not good with feelings.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Stiles teased him, and Derek smiled at him.

This was familiar and comfortable and felt like something Stiles could do.

“Dinner’s ready,” Peter called out, coming over to stroke his hand through Derek’s hair before leaving for the kitchen again, and Stiles couldn’t help the sharp, painful throb of his heart.

He had gotten used to Peter’s careful attempts of scent marking him, had gotten used to Peter’s hand light on his body, and it stung that he was so clearly disregarding him now.

“He _is_ mad,” Stiles muttered, and felt his every fear confirmed when Derek didn’t correct him this time.

Dinner, after that, was awkward. Peter would only talk when directly spoken to, otherwise keeping busy with his food, and no matter what Derek and Stiles did, they couldn’t engage him in a conversation.

This was easily the worst dinner Stiles had ever spent with them, because even the very first one had been livelier and better than this. At least then Peter hadn’t held back with his wit and sarcasm, but right now he almost seemed subdued.

Stiles and Derek were engaging in an almost hilarious amount of eyebrow talk, Stiles begging Derek to say something to jolt Peter out of his funk. Meanwhile Derek flat out refused and grimaced for Stiles to do something about this.

But Stiles felt like he couldn’t, not when he was the source of Peter’s discomfort in the first place.

In the end, neither of them said anything and Peter vanished almost as soon as they were done eating. Derek promised him that Peter was still in the apartment, hadn’t fled the scene completely, but he didn’t come back out of his study.

‘ _What’s wrong with him?’_ Stiles asked over the phone half an hour later, because he really didn’t want Peter to hear this.

Derek didn’t even bother to type out his answer, he just shrugged and then went over to the study, throwing the door open and marching right in.

“It’s movie time,” he declared and bothered Peter until he sighed and finally came out of the room.

He made a bee-line for the couch, and Stiles wanted to let out a relieved sigh, because this was known territory for him.

Stiles always sat on the right end, Peter in the middle, and Derek on the left end, cuddled up to Peter, but with his hand thrown over Peter’s stomach and lightly touching Stiles, while Peter had his arm over the back of the couch, behind Stiles’ head, keeping in contact like that.

Stiles was in the process of smiling at Peter, happy to see that at least this was going like always, but the smile dropped right off his face when he saw that Peter was marching over to the left end of the couch. He sat down there, stiff and tense, without even looking at Stiles and Stiles just couldn’t believe it.

Derek was back to his perpetual scowl and Stiles honestly felt like he had been transported back in time. Derek hadn’t scowled that hard since the time Scott had been a new-fledged werewolf and fucked everything up.

On the one hand it was hilarious to see Derek brood like that again, since Stiles had almost forgotten just how effective Derek’s eyebrows were for that, but on the other hand it was the worst thing ever. Derek was doing so much better recently, he shouldn’t be wearing his scowl ever again, and especially never because of Peter.

This was what Stiles had always feared, had always thought would happen when he hadn’t known Peter yet, and to see it now, when Stiles knew that Peter did nothing to Derek but make him happy, that was more than worrying.

And really, the only reason Peter was behaving like that was clearly Stiles, which just made everything that much more awful.

“I think I should leave now,” Stiles mumbled, not looking at either of them as he got up, but he could feel their eyes on him.

“I can go back again, you don’t have to leave,” Peter immediately said, and Stiles almost flinched under that.

“No, it’s—you two enjoy your evening,” Stiles pressed out, hurt by just how adamantly Peter didn’t want to spend time with him, and before either of them could say something else, Stiles was out the door.

That had been a complete disaster.

~*~*~

It took two days for Derek to revert back to his creeper days and climb through Stiles’ bedroom window.

“That bad, huh?” Stiles weakly joked, but he didn’t really want to know.

“Your dad is there,” Derek explained, which startled a laugh out of Stiles.

“And you think him finding you in my bedroom, without announcing yourself first is gonna get you less shot?”

Derek cringed at that, and then promptly went back out the window.

Stiles laughed out loud again, and then dashed to his door, cranking it open and shamelessly listened in to his dad welcoming Derek with way too much enthusiasm. It was clearly making Derek uncomfortable, evidenced by how he mostly grunted in answer at Stiles’ dad, and Stiles had to press a hand to his mouth, so they wouldn’t hear him chuckle.

Stiles was sitting innocently at his desk when Derek finally came into the room, and he closed the door behind him so deliberately careful that Stiles almost fell of his chair laughing so hard.

“That was not funny,” Derek hissed out before he awkwardly sat down on Stiles’ bed. “I already have to deal with Peter, I don’t need this interrogation.”

That immediately sobered Stiles up.

“Still bad?” he asked, settling back on his chair and turning attentively to Derek.

“He’s fine when he’s with me,” Derek instantly reassured him. “It’s just when I talk about you that he clams up completely.”

Stiles had known that rejection was in his future, it was inevitable with Derek’s and Peter’s relationship, but he still hadn’t expected it to hurt this much.

“So I ruined it,” Stiles whispered and looked down at his hands.

“I’m not—I don’t know,” Derek eventually said, and he sounded so helpless and lost. “I don’t know what’s wrong, he won’t talk to me about you and I don’t know how to help.”

“Maybe you can’t. Maybe we just have to accept that Peter doesn’t like me and doesn’t want to be around me anymore.”

“That’s not—he smells hurt,” Derek told him and Stiles looked up with such obvious worry that Derek was quick to continue. “Not physically, he healed up just fine from that. But he smells hurt and sad and I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“You think it would help if I asked him? If I did something nice for him for a change?”

“Would you?” Derek asked him, head tilted to the side in consideration. “You didn’t seem particularly eager to confront him, either.”

“I’m still convinced I fucked it up when I touched him when he was hurt and vulnerable,” Stiles admitted, because if he was going to talk to Peter, he could start admitting the truth right now. “I don’t want to make anything worse.”

“I don’t think that’s it. He doesn’t smell angry or afraid. He’s just—he seems so defeated.”

“I can talk to him,” Stiles said again, because Derek himself seemed hurt and desperate and Stiles didn’t know any other way to help him.

He would just have to suck it up and talk to Peter.

“You don’t have to do that, for me,” Derek said, and Stiles frowned at him.

“I’m not just doing it for you,” he said. “I’m doing it for him, and me too. I like him, you know that. I saw him like you see him, caring and somehow insecure, and I like him. I thought we were friends,” Stiles explained, glad that at least that was an honest statement, even though he did hope for more.

Derek was watching him with bright eyes and there was something like hope in them.

“I think it would really help if you talk to him.”

“Any advice on what I can do for him? Since he did so much for the pack already?”

Derek considered that for a moment before he said: “Give me a day or two. I’ll see if I can find anything out and then I’ll let you know.”

“Alright,” Stiles sighed, and he could already feel the nervousness creep in.

He had hoped to talk to Peter today, to get it over with and get it behind them, but if he had to wait a few days then his anxiety would kick in and would make everything that much worse.

Derek stood up, walking towards him and when Stiles just raised a questioning eyebrow at him, Derek leaned forward and kissed his cheek, lingering there for a few seconds and Stiles prayed hard that he wasn’t blushing too much.

He knew his heartbeat was all out of whack, and Derek had to hear that, but he didn’t comment on it at all.

“Thank you,” Derek whispered against his skin, and Stiles closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of Derek so close, before he finally pulled away. “It means a lot to me that you will ask him.”

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles muttered, trying to get his heartbeat calmed down again.

Stiles was pretty sure the whole thing would come back to bite him in the ass, but he really did want to patch things up with Peter, whatever it was that went wrong between them.

~*~*~

It took Derek two days, two endlessly long days, to text Stiles. And then all it said was ‘ _You better ask him yourself what you can do for him_ ’, like that was going to help Stiles at all.

Stiles spend two more days agonizing over what he could possibly do for Peter, before he had to admit that maybe he simply had to ask him. Because everything Stiles had come up with so far, were things that Peter could very easily buy for himself.

And Stiles wanted it to _mean_ something, and he still didn’t know Peter well enough to come up with something of his own. And since Derek was decidedly useless, Stiles gave in to his fate and drove over to the apartment one afternoon.

He waited in the jeep for a few minutes, psyching himself up to just walk up there and face Peter head on. He hadn’t seen him since that disastrous dinner, and Stiles wasn’t sure Peter would even let him in.

Peter had been more than unwilling to talk to Stiles ever since that run-in with the ifrit, and Stiles was afraid that forcing this confrontation would just make things worse.

But Derek had told him to do this too, and Stiles trusted Derek. If he thought they could work this out, then Stiles had to trust his word.

Stiles stumbled out of his jeep, already jittery with nerves, and made his way up to Peter’s apartment. Peter didn’t even have the decency to pretend that he hadn’t heard Stiles in the parking lot, because the door was already open.

Wynken and Blynken were sitting right behind the door, clearly too well-behaved to just dash out of the apartment, but as soon as Stiles stepped in, they were rubbing their heads against Stiles’ legs, prompting him to bend down and cuddle them appropriately.

Felix was sitting a little bit behind, still too shy to just demand cuddles like the others, but Stiles didn’t forget about him, scooping him up as he walked further into the apartment. Holding on to something when he had to talk to Peter might not be the worst idea anyway.

“Derek is not here,” Peter called over from the kitchen, not even bothering to turn around, and Stiles took one last deep breath.

“I know that. I’m here for you.”

“And what can I do for you?” Peter asked, turning around, but not leaving the kitchen.

“It’s more about what I can do for you,” Stiles gave back and reluctantly put Felix down when he started to squirm in his hold.

Now that Stiles didn’t have anything to hold on to, he felt strangely vulnerable without his cat-shield, and Peter immediately honed in on his discomfort.

“I’m making you that nervous, huh?” Peter wanted to know, smirk tugging at his mouth, but his eyes remained hard and guarded.

“You have not been really welcoming since you got hurt,” Stiles gave back, heart stuttering in his chest, with how much that still hurt.

“Then why are you here now?”

“Because you have been doing all these nice things for everyone. You keep us all safe, with research and in fights, and you pay for everyone, and you take care of the cats,” Stiles listed and refused to squirm under Peter’s searching gaze.

“And?” Peter snapped when Stiles trailed off after that. He was clearly uncomfortable with all the good deeds he has been doing and Stiles found that strangely endearing.

“And I think someone should do something nice for you,” Stiles weakly gave back with a shrug.

“Right,” Peter scoffed and pushed himself away from the kitchen counter he had been leaning against. “Are you gonna be that someone?” he asked, but he clearly hadn’t expected Stiles’ answer, because he stopped dead in his tracks when Stiles said “Yes.”

“Come again?” Peter said, and Stiles had to try very hard to not laugh out loud at the startled look on Peter’s face.

“I’m here to ask you what I can do for you. Something nice,” Stiles immediately tacked on, because he wanted to make sure that Peter understood why he was here. “You have been doing all these nice things for us, and no one has ever done anything nice for you, so I want to change that.”

“Is that so?” Peter practically purred, and his whole demeanor suddenly changed.

He visibly relaxed; his shoulders dropped, his whole posture became more open and inviting and Peter even let his hands hang loosely at his side. Stiles hated how he relaxed himself when he saw Peter so clearly comfortable again.

“Yeah,” Stiles croaked out, before he cleared his throat awkwardly. “So, any ideas?”

Peter’s look became sly and he swaggered up to Stiles, almost crowding him against the couch.

“How does dinner sound, sweetheart?” Peter asked him, and Stiles could do nothing but stare at him. “You won’t even have to drive, because—”

“Are you kidding me?” Stiles yelled out, cutting Peter right off. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yes?” Peter answered, tilting his head in question as if he had any right to wonder why the hell Stiles was angry.

“ _With you?_ ” Stiles incredulously asked, because what the fuck was even going on.

Peter was with Derek, how could he ever think that Stiles would go along with this, would allow Peter to cheat on Derek, no matter just how much he might want to be with these two.

Something in his voice must have gotten across to Peter, because his face suddenly closed off and he couldn’t quite look Stiles into the eyes anymore.

“Of course not,” Peter gave back, voice stilted and emotionless. “I know you resent me.”

Stiles stomach lurched at that, because he didn’t, he didn’t at all, but before he could protest, Peter went on.

“I thought you could go out with Derek.”

“Are you pimping me out to your nephew?” Stiles asked, and he couldn’t believe what was happening right now.

He had come here to ask for something nice for Peter to do, and he couldn’t understand just how it escalated like this.

“You love him, don’t you? I thought you’d jump on that chance.”

“I’m here to ask you about something nice I can do for you, and your first thought is to get Derek to cheat on you with me?” Stiles asked to clarify, since he couldn’t believe his ears.

“Please, as if you ever really wanted to do anything for me. I’m giving you an easy out here,” Peter spit out and Stiles flinched back at the venom in his voice. “Like that everyone can be happy, and you don’t have to spend any more time in my presence.”

“You think it would make me happy to get Derek to cheat on you? You think that would make Derek happy?”

“It’s not really cheating if I know about it and actually encourage it, now, is it?” Peter asked, but he was back to being tense and closed off, arms crossed in front of his chest and his eyes and voice hard.

“I can’t believe you would do that to Derek,” Stiles snapped. “That you would do that to all of us.”

Peter just continued to stare at him and Stiles wanted to wring his neck.

“I thought you loved him,” he eventually muttered, and Peter’s jaw tightened at that.

“I thought you did too,” Peter immediately gave back, and Stiles shook his head.

“I do, but that shouldn’t matter, since _you’re_ with him.” Not to mention that he also loved Peter, but that really didn’t seem to have any place here.

“He loves you, too, you know,” Peter said, his voice suddenly soft again.

“I cannot fucking believe you,” Stiles called out. “Is this your way of trying to break up with him? Because that is a shitty way to do that.”

“I thought you of all people would love that idea. You get Derek and you get rid of me, like you so clearly want.”

Stiles gaped at Peter, wondering how everything had gotten so incredibly fucked up.

“Fuck you,” Stiles snarled at Peter, and whirled around, stomping out of the apartment.

He couldn’t believe that Peter would ever believe that Stiles would get in between them like that, would break them up. And most of all, he couldn’t believe that Peter apparently wanted that.

Stiles immediately drove to Derek’s loft, because this was something he had to tell Derek, no matter how much it sucked.

Derek opened the door for him before Stiles even had the chance to knock at the door.

“How did it go?” Derek asked, and he seemed strangely hopeful, so he had clearly known that Stiles had gone to Peter’s place.

Stiles took a deep breath, cursing himself for ever getting up this morning. He didn’t want to tell Derek what just happened, he didn’t want to ruin their relationship, but he knew that he had to.

“I hate him,” Stiles started with, even though he was aware that his heartbeat still gave him away.

“What happened?” Derek immediately wanted to know, reaching out to lay a comforting hand on Stiles’ arm.

“I asked him if there was anything I could do for him, just like you wanted,” Stiles explained and Derek nodded along. “And he told me to go on a date with _you_.”

“With me?” Derek repeated, and he frowned. “That was not the plan,” he then muttered, and Stiles stared at him.

“The plan? What the fuck are you even talking about? He tried to pimp you out to me, because he thinks I’m in love with you and would jump on that chance!”

“Aren’t you?” Derek earnestly asked and that brought Stiles up short.

“What the hell is even going on here?” he demanded to know, because this really shouldn’t be Derek’s reaction to this.

“I thought you loved him, too,” Derek said instead of answering Stiles’ question.

“How is that even relevant?” Stiles asked, neatly avoiding answering the question with anything that could give him away.

“Since he asked you out on a date with us, how could it not be?”

“What? He— _what_?” Stiles almost yelled out because he clearly had lost the plot at one point.

Nothing made any sense today, and Derek was not clearing anything up at all. Stiles felt confused and unsteady and he marched past Derek to plop down on the couch.

“For once in your life, Derek, use your words, please,” Stiles pleaded, and Derek sat down on the table in front of the couch.

“The plan was that Peter should ask you out on a date with us,” Derek started, and Stiles instantly shook his head.

“No, see, that makes zero sense. You have to start somewhere else.”

“You’re in love with us,” Derek said, and Stiles flinched back at that, even though Derek didn’t say it in a mean way.

“I didn’t mean to,” Stiles whispered, because lying to Derek right now didn’t seem like the wisest thing.

“It’s not an accusation,” Derek reassured him. “It’s what we hoped for.”

“You’re still not making sense,” Stiles muttered, but he couldn’t deny the hope that bloomed up in him.

“You hated Peter because you didn’t know any better, and we hoped that if you learned that he wasn’t the horrible person you believed him to be, then you would see why I loved him.”

Stiles wanted to be angry with Derek for this, but he had to admit that this was exactly what had happened.

“Fine, I do. And then what, huh?” he asked, voice bitter, even though he couldn’t fully believe that Derek had done this to make fun of Stiles. “What was your glorious plane, once that happened?”

“The plan was to date you,” Derek easily gave back, not deterred by Stiles’ accusing tone.

“To—date me,” Stiles repeated, because he had a hard time believing this.

“Yes,” Derek agreed. “We want to date you, Stiles, is that really so hard to believe?”

“Seeing as you two are in a happy relationship, yes,” Stiles said without hesitation.

Derek opened his mouth at that, but before he could say anything, Stiles talked right over him.

“Then why would he ask me to just date you?” Stiles asked, voice small and unsure, because Derek might be telling him this, but clearly Peter hadn’t been on board with that.

“I don’t know,” Derek softly gave back. “The plan was to ask you out on a date with both of us. It’s why I sent you to ask him yourself.”

Stiles could see how that could have been the plan, it all fit together after all, but Peter had not acted like he wanted it as well.

“He hates me, Derek.”

“He doesn’t,” Derek said with a frown and cupped Stiles’ cheek with his hand. “He loves you, just like I do.”

Stiles couldn’t help the happy rush that went through him at that, but it was immediately tampered down when he remembered what Peter had said to him.

“You don’t believe me,” Derek said after a few moments and then got up to get his phone.

“Peter, get over here,” he said as soon as Peter accepted the call.

Stiles couldn’t hear Peter’s response, but Derek was narrowing his eyes as he listened to Peter.

“No,” he said, clearly cutting Peter off. “He’s here, and he’s distressed, and he thinks you hate him. Get your ass over here, we have to talk.”

Derek angrily ended the call and walked over to Stiles and pushed his fingers through Stiles’ hair.

“He’s coming over, and we’re going to clear it up,” he promised, and Stiles resisted the urge to lean into Derek’s touch.

He still wasn’t sure what was happening here, or how it would end, and he didn’t want to indulge in anything he likely wouldn’t get again after this talk.

“I’m not really sure what you want to clear up, but sure. Let’s just all sit together when Peter doesn’t even like me.”

“Stiles,” Derek said with a sigh. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Stiles rushed out, because even if he didn’t understand a thing right now, he was sure about that.

“Then trust me when I say that he loves you.”

“You said he smells defeated and hurt,” Stiles remembered. “And that he wouldn’t talk to you about the reason.”

“Yes,” Derek admitted, clearly seeing where Stiles was going with this. “But I know that he loves you. I know it. That hasn’t changed, no matter what else is going on with him.”

Stiles wanted to believe Derek, he did, but it was hard, with how much Peter’s words were still fresh in his mind, still hurting him, so he shrugged instead of saying anything else.

Derek sat down next to Stiles on the couch when he saw that he still didn’t think Derek was telling the truth, and Stiles refused to admit that he slumped against Derek, before Derek even had the chance to put his arm around Stiles’ shoulder.

“You’ll see,” Derek said, briefly nosing at Stiles’ temple and then they settled in to wait for Peter to arrive.

Stiles was too wired up to just doze off, even though Peter took his sweet time. Derek regularly checked his watch, and after twenty minutes it became clear that Peter was stalling. Stiles was about to suggest that Derek called him again, when Derek suddenly perked up in a way, that told Stiles Peter had finally pulled up.

“He took his sweet time,” Stiles muttered, and Derek kissed his forehead.

“He’s worried, too,” he gave back and then stood up, greeting Peter at the door with a small and soft kiss.

“Don’t you two smell cozy,” Peter said, voice distant and he stepped away from Derek, putting some space between all of them.

“Seems like you were more on board with the idea of dating Derek than you had wanted to admit, huh?” he snarled at Stiles, who shrunk back into the couch.

“Peter,” Derek chastised him. “What is going on? You said you loved him. What are you doing?”

“Does it matter?” Peter hissed at Derek. “It’s not like he even cares about me. Why don’t you two get all over each other like you so clearly want and leave me the hell out of it.”

Derek reared back at those words, and helplessly stared at Peter.

“What is going on with you, lately? Ever since that ifrit attack you’re acting strange. Is Stiles right? Are you mad at him that he touched you while you were hurt?”

Stiles tried again to be swallowed up the couch cushions, but of course he wasn’t that lucky.

“I’m not mad about that,” Peter said with a frown. “I trust him, and he did it to take care of me. Of course I wouldn’t be mad about that, I said that already.”

“Then what?” Derek wanted to know, hands helplessly spread out in front of him.

“I am perfectly able to recognize when someone is disgusted by me,” Peter hissed, and for the first time he looked over at Stiles. “The way you fled the apartment when you woke up spoke more than a thousand words, just like your clear outrage when I suggested you’d date us.”

“You didn’t—,” Stiles started but then stopped, because he replayed both scenes in his head. “That is not what happened,” he finally settled on, and when Peter scoffed at that, clearly not believing a word Stiles said, Stiles stood up.

“When I woke up in bed with you two, I realized for the first time that I have feelings for you too,” Stiles said, laying it all out there, because he had nothing to lose, but everything to win here. “You called me sweetheart and you trusted me enough to sleep in the same bed with me, and I didn’t know how to handle that, because I’m already in love with Derek, and you two are together.”

“You did leave rather abruptly,” Derek said, and Stiles shrugged.

“I know, but I got kinda blindsided by my feelings and I wanted to leave before either of you noticed.”

“What did you think happened?” Derek asked and turned back to Peter.

“I thought I took it too far, calling you sweetheart and climbing into bed when you were already asleep. I thought you resented me, and were disgusted, so I tried to give you two some space afterwards. I didn’t want to force my presence on you,” Peter explained, and he started to relax again.

“I enjoy your presence,” Stiles lowly admitted.

“And about the dating?” Derek asked, because he obviously wanted to clear up everything.

“I might have lost it before Peter actually got to the ‘us’ part of the question,” Stiles sheepishly admitted. “I thought he was asking me out on a date with him, and just him, and I would never come between you two like that.”

“You said it with so much hate,” Peter whispered, “like dating me would be the worst thing to ever happen to you.”

“Because I thought you were trying to cheat on Derek. I hate cheaters. They are the worst,” Stiles decidedly said. “And then you changed tracks and tried to push me at Derek and that was just as bad, because I also would never do that to you.”

Peter visibly deflated with his relief, and Derek slowly smiled at Stiles.

“So if we were to ask you out again, on a date with both of us—,” trailed off and looked expectantly at Stiles.

“I would make sure that both of you really want that,” Stiles said and looked at Peter. “Because I’m still half convinced that you hate me.”

And Stiles was. His head was spinning with the thought that Peter might not hate him, that they both might want him with them. It was such a different scenario than everything Stiles had ever dared to imagine.

“Sweetheart, I was intrigued by you the moment I met you,” Peter said and came over to Stiles, drawing him close by the hips, though he carefully watched Stiles for his reaction.

He smiled at Stiles when he stepped willingly closer to Peter and Stiles hadn’t realized just how unhappy Peter had been the last few days until he saw him happy now.

“I would be delighted if you would allow us to take you out on a date,” Peter told him, nosing at his cheek and breathing Stiles’ scent in.

“Derek?” Stiles questioned, because they all needed to be on the same page here, even though Stiles didn’t expect a different answer from Derek.

“Would you go on a date with us?” Derek asked, coming up at their side and pressing a kiss to Peter’s cheek before he did the same to Stiles.

“Yes,” Stiles breathed, indescribably happy at how this had turned out. “Because I like you both,” he said, and saw the last bit of tension flow out of Peter.

“This is the nicest thing you could ever do for me,” Peter whispered, right before he leaned in and brushed his lips over Stiles’.

Stiles made a pleased noise, before he leaned forward, pressing their lips more firmly together. Stiles relished the content sound Peter made at that, and he shivered when Derek pressed kiss after kiss to his neck.

“It’s not only the nicest thing for Peter,” Derek whispered, nipping at Stiles’ jaw, before he turned Stiles’ head, to capture his lips in a kiss of his own.

Stiles felt drunk, he was that happy with both Peter and Derek at his sides, and he leaned against Peter once Derek had pulled back.

“I really thought you hated me,” Peter whispered into Stiles’ hair.

“I did, in the beginning,” Stiles admitted and then smiled at Derek. “But then I got to know the real you.”

“And aren’t you glad I insisted,” Derek said and brushed his nose against Stiles’.

“So glad,” Stiles immediately said, because he was.

He was so damn glad that he got this now.


End file.
